


A prayer heard, a dream come true

by SantaMalgastadora



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Abortion, Alcohol, Angst, Blood, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Eventual Comfort, F/M, Hope, Infidelity, Intoxication, It's a trap though, Nausea, Needles, Some Fluff, Succubi & Incubi, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24040330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SantaMalgastadora/pseuds/SantaMalgastadora
Summary: Be careful what you wish for - you never know who's listening.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Julian Devorak
Comments: 24
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if it's the quarantine bringing me down or if I simply need a change of air but here, I'm going to take my favourites, rip their hearts out and drag them over broken glass as they beg me to kill them. And I don't know yet if I'll be merciful enough to listen to them.
> 
> You've been warned. Read the tags. Be safe.

Julian was fine.

He made it alive from an execution and from Hell itself, and helped to save the world. He got back his family and friends, his home and profession. He was loved, valued and respected.

He was perfectly fine.

Or at least he should be.

Why wasn't he then? Why did he feel hollow and cold? Why did this dull pain keep splitting his chest in half? Why was he tortured, days and nights, for months and months, with thoughts of… her? Just her. Only her. Always her. The one he had not stopped loving even when he didn't remember her. The one he loved and desired ten times more now, after she'd saved his life, saved him from his own madness and returned him everything he'd lost and missed. Why these thoughts of this remarkable woman, beautiful like a sunrise, and powerful and kind and gentle like an angel… Why were they such an ungodly torment?

"Because she's not mine," Julian repeated out loud into the loneliness of his bedroom, just for himself, hoping for the memo to sink in and end this nightmare.

It wasn't now, though. Once again, for a thousandth time, the words pierced his heart like a knife and made tears prickle his eyes. He must've been crazy to hope that they'd stop hurting him one day.

He sighed heavily, pulled on the bottle, not even sitting up from the pillows. He choked and coughed and some of the rum ran over the corner of his mouth and down his cheek and jaw. But he didn't care. He might choke to death as well - he wasn't going to stop drinking lying down.

(A couple of weeks ago, he stopped going to the Raven to get wasted. Instead, he started to drink already in bed, to drink and cry himself straight to sleep - two birds with one stone! He was so fucking smart…)

And so, tonight, like last night, and the night before, he drank and cried silently, waiting for that numb, shallow, drunken sleep to take over his ruined mind and grant him at least a couple of hours of oblivion, at least a moment of break from images of sweet [y/n], of the memories of her dancing away the Masquerade with Asra, holding hands with Asra at the market, always smiling at Asra, kissing Asra, giggling at Asra pressing his lips to her rosy cheek, her lovely hand on Asra's chest while he pulled her flush to his side with his arm wrapped around her waist.

Julian clenched his fingers around the bottle's neck instead and bit his lip hard, almost as hard as the pain tore his insides into pieces. He let out a slow, shaky breath through his nose to stop himself from howling. But the tears escaped from under his squeezed eyelids and ran down his temples and behind his ears, wetting the pillow.

Oh, he would  _ kill _ to be in Asra's place; to have her love him instead. He would sell his useless soul to be the one who makes her so happy. He would give up half of his mauled heart like Asra did… No, fuck! - he would give it whole! To anyone, to the worst kind, to the Devil himself! He'd beg and lie and steal - anything to spend his life with her. If she wanted him, if she chose him, he would bring the whole world to her feet, would kiss the ground she walks; he would cherish and pamper her and thank all the gods and demons for letting him love this wonderful creature and having her love him in return.

But Asra was first in line.

Good, he deserved it. Deserved her, her love, her heart and body. It was his heart anyway and it was him who bent heaven and raised hell - twice - for her to have this body. How Julian could compete with this? He couldn't. Better even - he probably should  _ thank _ Asra. Julian wasn't able to protect her from the plague, from Lucio, wasn't able to bring her back, not even once. Yeah, he should keep sucking Asra's cock for having her around at all.

Julian burst with mirthless laughter. Then, choked a little on his drink again and laughed and cried some more until bitter thoughts and booze finally knocked him out.

He didn't even flinch when the bottle rolled out of his hand and hit the floor with a loud clink. He was blessed with some dreamless sleep - a very rare treat. He rested peacefully until his nose tickled. He didn't feel it. Then, it tickled again. He wrinkled it, sniffled instinctively and nothing more, though he woke up a little. He almost drifted off when it tickled again. He tsked impatiently and flinged his hand to his face to rub it. He rolled on his side, desperate to fall back into the void of sleep, but then, the very tip of his nose tickled again. He grimaced and groaned and rubbed in on the pillow.

The giggle he heard, so sweet and soft, right in front if his face could had been just a dream. He forced his eyes open, his vision cleared slowly, adjusted to the dark…

"Hi there," [y/n] whispered, her smile beautiful, eyes twinkling playfully.

When she reached out to again tickle his nose with the tip of her finger, his heart hammered as if she hit him.

It was [y/n]. Lying next to him. So close. Smiling. Teasing him innocently like it was the most natural thing in the world.

_ Here you are, Ilya _ , he thought to himself.  _ This time, you drank way, way too much. You crossed a line. _

But which one?

"[y/n]?"

"Yes?"

Oh good god… "Is this- " he choked out, incredulous, utterly confused and a tad scared. "Sorry, I, um… Is… This  _ is _ my bedroom, right?"

"Yes," she answered, smiling wider, brighter, and she was so insanely beautiful that it literally hurt to look straight at her.

Julian gulped, tried to look away, feeling he should. But he couldn't - she was so close that her face was all he saw. "Are you… Are you, then… really here?"

"No."

"Oh." Of course not, you idiot. But it was obvious, so he didn't even feel very disappointed. "Am I dreaming?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

A dream. He knew that. He's dreamt of [y/n] already. Frankly, he dreamt of her every night. He loved it as much as he hated it because no matter if it was sweet or hot or cruel, it always left him a little bit more heartbroken in the morning than he was in the evening. And he wondered how much longer he'd be able to take those dreams and that pain before he'd give up and just finish himself off.

But it was worth to take it up till now because this dream was different. It seemed so true, as if she really was there, right there, in his bed. He saw her so clearly... Her lovely eyes, long eyelashes, her lips, nose, hair - every detail was there. The roundness of her shoulder and the dark hollows behind her collarbones. The soft swell of her breasts behind her arms crossed in front of her chest… He even felt the mattress dip under her weight. He was almost sure that if he reached out - and she was so close he'd have to only move his hand - he would feel her skin under his fingers, and it would be soft and warm… Probably if he kissed her now, he would taste her.

In any other dream, he would be already taking her in handfuls.

Now, though, he stayed still.

"How are you, my darling?" he breathed, unsure how to act. He was as nervous as if he found himself face to face with her in broad daylight.

Her smile turned wistful. "I'm fine, I guess… It's just…" she trailed off, looking away. She worried her lip.

He swallowed but his throat was so terribly dry. And it wasn't the rum. It was having an actual, intimate conversation with [y/n]. "What is it?" he uttered, his voice barely there.

She looked back at him and was silent for a moment longer, just looking him in the eyes. "I miss you, Julian," she said at last.

The time stopped. His heart skipped a painful beat, making him hold his breath.

_ She missed him _ .

Then, she huffed and shook her head. "But don't mind me, I'm just whining." She brought the lovely smile back on her face. "And how are you?"

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes and blinked to stop the tears but some escaped anyway. "It doesn't matter," he choked out.

She hummed pensively and raised her hand to his face, making him gasp and flinch at her touch. "Why are you suffering so much, my sweetness?" she asked as she wiped the tears away, so gently, one by one, from his temple and nose, from the corners of his eyes.

"Oh [y/n]!" he sighed, at last taking her hand in both of his and nuzzling his cheek into it. It was strangely cold and smooth, too smooth, but it was a dream after all. Still, it felt real, it was solid under his palm. It was the most he'd ever felt of her. He pressed it harder to his face. "You've got no idea how much I want you, my darling." There, he said it, at last, out loud, and once he started, words poured out of him uncontrollably, voice straining, breaking. "You don't know how much I miss you, how much I love you! Every day, every hour, even minute without you, knowing that somebody else gets to be with you, hold you, kiss you, love you, it hurts! It hurts like I'm being ripped apart! It- It's killing me. I- I don't think I can take it anymore, [y/n]… I- I can't… I can't…!" he stammered until he broke and couldn't speak any longer. A sob burst out his clenched throat and he trembled

"Oh no, my sweet Julian, hush, my dearest, hush," she cooed, putting her arms around him, hugging him to her cool chest, and he held onto her as if his life depended on it. Because it felt as if it did.

"I love you, [y/n], I love you! I do!" he whimpered. "I love you, I love you… Why won't you have me? Why can't we be together? Why can't we be happy? It hurts so bad to be without you, darling, please! I'm begging you! Help me, please!"

"Oh, sweetness, don't cry, don't you cry. Oh my sweet Julian..." she repeated, kissing his hair, his forehead, his temple.

"Please, it hurts! I can't take it, I can't take more... Make it stop, [y/n], please… Make it stop..."

"I would if I could, my sweet, I swear I would."

"No, [y/n], please…"

"Julian, darling, listen to me." She drew away and cupped his cheek, wiped it with her thumb, waiting for him to look up at her. She gifted him with a gentle smile. "Listen, my sweet. I'm right here, right now. Nothing matters, only this moment, and it won't last forever."

"I know, you're right, my love, I'm sorry…" he mumbled, nuzzling her hand, now soft and warm, oh so warm.

"Shh…" She pressed a kiss to his forehead, between his knit brows, she kissed it until he relaxed and his hands unclenched on her shoulders, until his breath slowed down. "It's your dream, and I can give you anything you want, sweet Julian," she murmured against his skin. "I can do anything you want. All you have to do is ask." She looked down at him, her eyes soft. "What would you like?"

It was too good to be true. "Marry me," he blurted out.

She chuckled lightly, pressing her forehead to his. "Alright."

Julian couldn't help but smile, too. "Really?"

"Yes. I will."

"Oh good god..." he sighed from the bottom of his tortured heart, finally daring to wrap his arms around her, to pull her flush to him. At the moment, he was too relieved and excited to wonder why her body was so hard and felt hollow. "Promise?"

"I do. But not right now. What would you like now, my love?"

_ My love... _ His eyes drifted down to her beautiful lips. "A kiss?"

A smile bloomed on her angelic face. Her eyes darkened. Or didn't they? "I thought you wouldn't ask."

She leaned in and when her lips touched his, it made his breath hitch - he really felt them. They were cold like her hands and chest before, but it was good, it let him feel her better, clearer. He kissed her back with all he was worth, and she hummed and slipped her tongue between his parted lips, slided it against his, letting him taste her and  _ good lord _ , was she sweet, so sweet, not like human, not like flesh, more like sugar, and it was strange, but it was good, intoxicatingly so. Because the moment Julian tasted it, he couldn't get enough of it. His mouth screamed for  _ more!  _ of this, his body demanded  _ more! _ , his mind set on  _ more! more! more!  _ He lost control, he cradled the back of her head and held her waist to keep her in place, to kiss her over and over and over again. He was thirsty and she was a spring, he was dying and she was life. Nothing else mattered now, everything blurred, the world could end and he wouldn't notice over her mouth - insanely sweet and now hot on his, over her body moving sensually, sinfully against his, over the noises she made, her purrs and moans and gasps, spurring him on and on, enveloping, consuming him, until all he knew was her, her, only her.

He became pliant like a ragdoll in her lovely, small hands and gladly lied on his back when she pushed on him. He welcomed her weight on him when she straddled him, so heavily, pressing on his chest and stomach, stealing his breath, making him dizzy, immobilising his hips. But what did it matter when she kept devouring him with this sweet, sweet mouth of hers? What did it matter since he could be so close to her, feel her, touch her - his hands smoothed down her lusciously arched back to her bottom, so full and firm, to her lush thighs, the skin there cool, hard, not like he imagined but how could he complain?

[y/n] pulled away abruptly, and a pathetic whine escaped Julian's lips as he craned his neck up to catch hers again. But the sound turned into a wholehearted moan and he fell back into the pillows when she rolled her hips against his groin and her sex, naked, soft -  _ oh so soft _ \- pillowy, smooth, surprisingly warm, when it glided over his bared cock, already stone-hard and aching.

He didn't notice when it became like this…

"Oh, sweet Julian," she purred, an odd, unfamiliar note in her voice.

It made Julian tense and grow cold, something like waking up, and he panicked - he didn't want to wake up, not yet, not so soon.

The sensation was washed away when she graced him with another kiss of her sweet lips - he latched to them, ravished them like a man starving - and with another swipe of her blooming sex over his. He whimpered into her mouth when the tip of his cock caught on the wet, open entrance of her delight. "Oh please, [y/n], please, oh please…" Oh how he wanted to be inside her, feel her heat, her pleasure.

She purred again and the sound was low, vibrating, more cat-like than human, giving Julian chills.

Was he waking up again…? He gripped her thighs, desperate to keep her, to stay with her. "Please…!" he begged, ready to beg more, to promise her or anyone anything, everything he'd got for a moment more with her, for more of her.

But he didn't need to. With one liquid movement, coming up from her breasts brushing his chest, down to her stomach and soft groin gliding over his, she took him in, all the way, swiftly, smoothly, the velvety walls of her core sucking his cock inside, so loose, merely licking it, making his breath hitch and eyes roll back at the caress, so sudden, so thorough, yet so infuriatingly gentle.

Then, she clenched around him and started to move, and Julian threw his head back and cried out. She gripped him tightly, strongly, enveloped completely, absolutely, from the tip to the base, rubbing the slit, filling the underside of the verge of the head, hugging the veins, as if she was taking him for the very first time over and over again. And she rode him like it was nothing for her; rode him hard, fast, slapping his groin with her buttocks with each move down, loud, not loud enough though to drown out Julian's moans and screams.

It was overwhelming, unbelievable, divine, bordering on painful, nothing like he'd ever felt before, neither drunk nor sober, dreaming nor awake. He imagined being with her would be mindblowing but this… Oh,  _ this _ ! He never imagined her so wild, so wanton. He never desired her more than now. He wanted to push up into her but her thighs held him in an iron grip. He craved to pull her close, to embrace her and keep kissing her delicious mouth, but the moment his hands smoothed up to her bouncing breasts, she seized his wrists and pinned them down. Then, she seemed to grip his cock even tighter, fuck him harder, and he howled brokenly and squirmed beneath her. It was incredible, inhuman, it was too much, it was a torture and not enough to grant him relief. He sobbed and panted and writhed, trying to move within her grasp, between her thighs, to free himself, to touch her, to get more, to make her slow down, to… to...

She purred again, drawing his attention, and leaned close but not to kiss him to his dismay. "Oh sweet Julian," she whispered, never slowing down. "There's so much pain in you."

"Please!" he whimpered. "Oh please, [y/n], please…!"

"Shhhh…" she cooed, her tender voice contrasting perversely with her merciless moves, stirring his roaring madness. "You're fine, my love. I've got you. I want your pleasure, nothing else. I want to take your sorrows and give you as much joy as I can. No more pain, sweet Julian, no shame, no loneliness, only pleasure, only bliss, only warmth, and love, and sex, and me, all of me, as much as you need, as much as you want."

Her words pushed him over the edge, the climax seized him, struck him like a tide, ripping a broken scream from his throat, then holding him breathless. His back arched and head pressed into the pillows and his whole body tensed and trembled while she slowed, almost loved him now. Her sex loosened, caressed, suckled on his abused cock until there was nothing more to milk from it, until it was spent and soft and slipped out of her and on his hip. The orgasm let go of Julian, let him breathe again. He panted as his body slumped on the bed, limp and useless.

The strange purring let him know that she was leaning over him again. He forced his eyes open, so blurry and tired. [y/n] was indeed over him, smiling, but not prettily anymore.

This smile made him want to run.

"You did so good, sweet Julian," she hummed, stroking his hot cheeks. "Now, let me kiss you one last time before you fall asleep."

"What- ?" he managed to choke out before she shut him up, parted his lips with hers, pushed her tongue into his mouth and swirled it inside, making him groan on the sickly sweet, nauseating taste of hers.

Before he even thought of pushing her away, darkness claimed him.

***

Julian snapped out of numbness with a start and a gasp, panting and sobbing, his heart hammering as if he'd run a mile. He squinted in the bright light of the late morning, then a headache caught up with him, the blunt pain almost knocking him out. He fell back into the damp, cold sheets with a long grunt. He raised his shaking hands to his pounding head, brushed his tangled, sweaty hair away, giving himself no relief at all - he felt like utter shit. Despite the already raging hungover, he was still drunk and dizzy. His body was shaking with exhaustion and his penis and testicles hurt as if a carriage ran over them. What the bloody hell did he fuck in his sleep? A door lock? A hole in the floor? God knew but the musings made him remember his dream.

He remembered - [y/n], her smile, her touch, her kind words…

His insides clenched and heart shuddered and died a little more. He remembered - he lied just like this and [y/n] was right there on top of him, riding him with abandon, her gorgeous body for him to admire.

He sighed as his eyes watered. A wave of guilt and disgust washed over him and his stomach turned, threatening to go up.

How could he? Even in a dream… How could he? Sweet, good, lovely [y/n]. And he used her for his pleasure like a… like a...

He sighed again, his face crumpled and tears rolled down his temples.

But it was only a dream. Incredible indeed, he couldn't deny it. So real, so good. The best he'd ever had. No wonder it left him wrecked inside out. But still just a dream - he didn't touch her. She was fine, absolutely fine, he consoled himself.

But intrusive images of his beloved girl, innocent and oblivious, right now probably lying in bed in Asra's loving arms were not so kind to him and flooded his mind like a poison, and he broke all over again.

If he could move, he'd end it all right there and then.


	2. Chapter 2

[y/n] was happy.

Her memories have been restored and her body reclaimed for good. Lucio was gone forever and the plague with him. All of her friends were safe and sound. And her relationship with Asra was sweet and blooming.

She was very happy.

Wasn't she?

"Already in bed, my heart?" Asra smiled to her from across the room, dark but one candle on his nightstand.

[y/n] peeked at him from between pillows and blankets in which she buried herself. "Yeah," she mumbled, averting her eyes with shame.

It didn't go unnoticed. Asra frowned and came up to perch on the bed. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She tensed and tried not to move away when he put his hand on her shoulder.

"A headache?" he asked, lovingly rubbing her back.

She shook her head. "Just tired."

Asra took his hand away and raised them in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm not bothering you anymore."

She turned towards him, driven by guilt. "No, you're not- !"

"I know, I'm kidding." He leaned over her with a smile and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Rest, whiny. Sweet dreams. I'll join you in a minute." He stroked her cheek before he stood up. He put out the candle with a wave of his hand and went to the bathroom.

[y/n] stared into the darkness for a long time after the door closed behind him.

What was wrong with her? Why was she like this? What happened, what changed that she became like this?

Asra was good to her. No, he was the best. He was perfect. Attentive, affectionate, thoughtful and loyal. He was so kind and gentle… And he loved her so much - she could see it in his eyes everytime he looked at her; she could feel it everytime he touched her. It was there, even in the most chaste caresses, the smallest kisses, and when they made love for hours and when he fucked her until she couldn't scream nor breathe anymore.

She wouldn't change a thing in him.

And yet.

Why wasn't he enough? Why did he make her feel so bad? She loved him, she did! She really did and she kept repeating it to herself everytime he held her or kissed her and she tried to hold and kiss him back - sincerely. She tried, everytime, day by day, week by week… And she was terrified because she knew she was failing. Whatever she felt for him that made her choose him, to be his, to share her life and bed with him, it was gone. And she didn't know when or why nor how to rekindle it. And if it was impossible, how was she supposed to tell him? How to leave him? How to live without him?

She didn't know, though she tortured herself with thoughts on this every night. No plan, no idea - only guilt. Crippling, sickening _guilt_. Guilt which wouldn't be so painful if at least there was no one else she wanted.

The bathroom door opened, making her flinch. She hoped he didn't see it in the dark and pretended to be asleep when he slipped under the blanket next to her and hugged her from behind, his hot chest pressed to her back and arm wrapped around her waist.

"I love you," he whispered, then pecked her cheek before he lied down with his forehead pressed to her shoulderblade.

She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lips to stop herself from crying. She didn't dare move, she waited until his breathing had gone slow and deep, and she kept still even then. Only when he rolled away from her and on his stomach did she relax.

She covered her face with her hands and her shoulders trembled. Oh, how she hated herself! She couldn't even sleep in his arms anymore… And yet, she pretended to do so every night.

Liar. Shameful, disgusting liar!

Some time later, she managed to drift off. With Asra on the other side of the bed, not touching her, her exhausted body and mind simply gave up and shut down. She was blessed with a couple of hours of a dreamless sleep, finally resting from her fears. But it wasn't long nor enough before she was roused by a cool touch of a hand on her cheek stroking her tenderly. She cracked an eye open, expecting to see Asra's sleepy smile.

Instead, she found herself face to face with Julian.

A lazy smile bloomed on his handsome face. "Hello, my darling."

"Julian?" she gasped at once. Adrenaline rushed through her veins and she sat up, eyes darting between him and sound asleep Asra. "What are you doing here? How did you get in? How- ? Why- ?"

"Shh, sweetness, hush, it's alright, it's alright." He rose with her, the mattress dipping under his weight, making her lean towards him and into his palm that cupped her cheek. It was cool, dry, smooth, kind of like glass, but [y/n], dazed with panic, didn't find it strange, only soothing on her heated skin. She let him turn her to him. "Everything's fine, my sweet [y/n]."

She gulped. He was so close. Mere centimetres between their faces and their knees touching. She could feel his breath on her face when he spoke. She could see the pale light from the street reflect in his eyes, his dense lashes and thick brows, and the dimples in the corners of his mouth as he smiled so clearly as if he was here in person.

And he looked at her like she was the stars and moon.

Impossible.

"Are you…?" she whispered, squirming a little under his gaze. "No, you can't be really here."

His smile turned sad and his hand fell to the side of her neck, thumb caressing the line of her jaw, giving her chills, not only from the cold. "No, I'm not."

She relaxed a bit. "A vision?" she guessed and raised her hand, hesitated, then tentatively touched his chest. And it was solid under her fingers, real and definitely cold under her palm, and her touch made him sigh - she heard it and felt the air on her lips. She licked them instinctively. "No, right?"

He quirked his head, eyes sparkling playfully. "Right."

"A dream?" She peeked again at the other side of the bed, partly to flee from under Julian's gaze, partly to see if Asra was still there. He was - oblivious and sleeping.

"A dream, yes." With a finger brushing down her cheekbone, he made her face him once again. "Your dream, my dearest. For only you and me if you wish. And no one else. Just us."

A dream. She had dreamt of him, of course she had. Too frequently to feel fine about it and not often enough to be satisfied. And she did try to sate this hunger everytime she found him somewhere between the fogs and absurds - she called for him, tried to catch him, corner him, pull him close, feel his lips and hands on her. And oh, how ethereal the satisfaction was and how it hurt, how it burnt to wake up and discover that the warmth to which she was clinging wasn't his but Asra's.

The shame and guilt she had to take when she denied him then…

But she never remembered nor cared about the consequences when she already was within a dream. Neither did she now. Growing bolder, she raised her hands to his face, slowly, fearfully at first, still aware of Asra seemingly sleeping next to her. She felt Julian's cheeks with the tips of her fingers, and they were cool, porcelain smooth like his hand and chest - strange, but it was a dream after all. Or maybe this was how he really was? She wouldn't know… She cupped them, and he covered her hand with his and nuzzled her palm like a cat.

"Oh [y/n]…" he purred with heartbreaking yearning.

It did break her heart.

And her voice broke when she said: "I miss you, Julian. I- " She hesitated. But it was just a dream after all. " _I love you_ ," she breathed, her heart pounding at hearing herself say these words, at last, for the first time, after months of having them rumble and buzz in her head, stealing her sleep, bending her spirit, poisoning the joy of belonging to Asra. "I love you."

"Oh, and how much I love you!" he replied between zealous kisses on her palm and wrist. "You don't know how much I miss you, how much I love you!" He looked up at her, his eyes dark and desperate, searching hers, his hands reaching for her, pulling her closer as he whispered urgently. "Every day, every hour, even minute without you, knowing that _he_ gets to be with you, hold you, kiss you, love you, it hurts! It hurts like I'm being ripped apart! It- It's killing me, my sweetest. I- I don't think I can take it anymore, [y/n]… I- I can't…"

She listened to him and all of the sudden, she couldn't breathe. Her throat clenched and chin crumpled, her eyes watered...

"Oh, no, no, my darling, don't cry!" he gasped and his arms wrapped around her trembling form, pulling her to his chest. She didn't resist, no - she hugged him back, as hard as she could, pressed her face to his neck. "Hush, my love. Don't cry, don't you cry. Don't waste this dream on tears."

"I know, I shouldn't but- But I feel so bad, too!" she choked out. "Because I love you and I miss you, and I can't stop thinking about you, and it's driving me mad!" she burst, her shoulders shaking. "But I Iove Asra, too, but I… somehow... I- I'm not- I'm not happy with him! I try, I do! He's so good to me, but- but- I don't know, I just… I can't, I can't!"

"I know, my sweetest, I know…" he cooed, holding her tight, stroking her hair like she imagined him to countless times.

She sighed shakily, melting into his embrace. To feel his strong arms around her, his broad chest against hers, smell his skin, strangely sweet, the hints of leather and rum in it… It was so much better than in her daydreams.

Still...

"I just wish you were here."

He pulled away and gently tipped her chin up for her to meet his gaze. "But I am, my love." He wiped her wet cheeks with his fingers, brushed her tousled her behind her ear. "I am."

She leaned into his touch immediately. She craved it, craved more, especially now, when it's been weeks she's been avoiding Asra's caresses. She missed a man's touch, his lips, his large hands on her body, his hips between her thighs… With desire waking up in her, she traced her hands down Julian's chest to his back, hugged him dearly one more time and breathed him in again and sighed when he hugged her back.

Still, she shook her head. "Not really, no."

He chuckled comprehendingly. He brought her hand up and hugged it to his cheek, now warm… Or was it always warm? "But don't I feel real?" He moved it to his neck, his chest, now warm, too but also… hollow? Without pulse, without heartbeat?

It was strange but yes. "You do."

His smile widened, so sweet and lovely it made [y/n]'s heart ache. She dreamt of him smile at her like this. He traced her features with his fingers, her hairline, eyebrows, cheekbones and jaw, his eyes soft.

"I've been dreaming of kissing you," he murmured and it made her pulse jump and groin throb.

His thumb smoothed over her lips and they parted under his touch, and she just craned her neck and met him halfway. Her breath hitched at the touch of his lips on hers. They were firm and cool, so different from Asra's soft and hot; different from what she dared imagine when she was alone. But they were passionate and hungry and desperate, as much as hers, and when his tongue teased the seam of her lips, she opened willingly and it swam into her mouth, filling it with incredible, addictive sweetness. [y/n] moaned so shamelessly and loud it could had embarrassed her if she wasn't already so caught up in the kiss, already so dizzy and hot and wanting, needing. She wrapped her arms around him and straddled his lap, clawed on his shoulders, his back, ran her fingers through his hair over and over again, completely lost in the sensations and tastes and sounds he was making, his hums and groans spurring her on. His hands hiked up her nightshirt and slipped underneath it, explored her skin, her back, her sides, grabbed her bottom and kneaded it as she rolled her hips, rubbed his sex on hers, already so plump and open and wet, rutted it against his thick, hard cock.

He purred languidly, the sound low and sharp and for some reason it gave her chills, bristled her to the very core. But before she could acknowledge it, she was laid on her back with his body between her thighs, his weighted pressing her down, his mouth never stopping to devour hers, the delicious sweetness washing away all the stemming doubts. He rolled his hips, rubbed his cock over her groin, between the slick, soft folds, and it was so wonderfully hard and big and hot unlike the rest of his body, and [y/n] gasped and jerk underneath him when it caught on her entrance and slid over her aching clit.

"Oh please, Julian, please," she heard herself whine between the kisses. She arched towards him as much as she could and rose her legs, wrapped them around his waist, trying to coax him inside.

He teased her like this again, making her sob with need. "Do you want me, my love?" he purred, piercing her heart with fear, then took it back with another kiss. "Do you want to have me?"

"Oh yes, yes, please, my dearest, please!"

Again, he purred, scared her, kissed it away, and with a sinuous, sinful move of his hips, he took her, easily, slowly, smoothly so, no resistance met, his cock even tickling her core - as if it shrank.

She gasped and tensed, alarmed, confused because it wasn't supposed to be like this. But then, before she could gather her words, she felt him and her gasp turned into panting, into barely muffled screams - he was swelling inside her, stretching her, already all the way in, forcing her to adjust and take him with no room for protest.

"Shhh, my sweetness, a little bit more, just a little more," he cooed into her ear while she shook and mewled and clawed onto his back, this exquisite feeling of being full overtaking her, making her forget everything else. He sighed when apparently he was done. "Mmm, so good, darling, so good… My love, I've wanted you for so long…"

Any reminiscences of doubts that started to poison the joy of her dream were forgotten the moment he moved. Slowly, only at first, three or four thrusts before he began to fuck her in earnest and inhuman in intensity pleasure struck her. She saw black, her mouth fell open and she screamed, almost drowning out the squeaking of the bed and banging of the bedpost against the wall. She held onto him for dear life, not able to do anything more but take him, let him and enjoy it, this raw passion, and she did, oh she did. He filled her up to the brim, rubbed all the right places like he was made for her, and after weeks of celibacy forced by guilt, after countless hours of night and daydreams of Julian and no satisfaction at all, now, this blew her mind.

Soon, way too soon, her body protested though. Ache and tension started to built between her legs until it was unbearable. She wanted to move beneath Julian, to squeeze her hand under his stomach and touch herself but when she tried, he noticed.

Within a blink of an eye, both her hands were pinned over her head.

"Julian!" she cried and jerked weakly and nothing more - his sugary mouth was immediately on hers, cutting her off and dulling the fear and pain.

"A little bit more, my dearest, my darling," he murmured, fucking her even harder now, drawing broken screams from her. "A little bit more and I'll give you what you want, and you'll be mine, and I'll be yours forever."

She gave up, relaxed. He held her too tightly, was too heavy on her to fight, not that she remembered why would she. Her head was swimming, her body ached and numbed at the same time, pleasure mingled with pain, excitement with fear, and she didn't know anymore if it was a dream or not.

Suddenly, his breath sped up, moves stuttered, his grip tightened on her, and he groaned and stilled, buried all the way in her abused sex.

She whined in discomfort when a few seconds or minutes or hours later his flaccid cock slipped out of her and his hot seed leaked out and down her buttocks. She squirmed weakly, frustrated, hurt and utterly confused, but he kept pinning her down.

At last, he rose slightly, letting her take a breath she didn't realise she was holding. He shook his head but the long fringe fell back over his face, over one of the dark, bottomless eyes.

He smiled as his thumbs stroked her tender wrists. "You did so good, sweet [y/n]," he murmured. "Now, let me kiss you one last time before you fall asleep."

She didn't understand what he meant nor did she protest when he once again kissed her hard and deep, flooding her mouth with the sickening sweetness.

The last thing she remembered was her stomach turning before she passed out.

***

" _[y/n]! [y/n]!_ " Asra's voice cut through the darkness, heavy and stuffy, enveloping her like a cacoon. " _[y/n], honey, wake up!_ Wake up!"

She stirred and sucked in a breath as she resurfaced. Her eyes shot open to Asra's face contorted with worry right over her. She shrieked and pushed away from him and if it wasn't for his hands on her shoulders, she would have fallen out of the bed.

He caught her. "Hey, slowly, slowly," he cooed, pulling her near. "It's me, it's just me. It's alright, my heart, don't be scared, I'm here..." He wrapped his arms around her, hugged her delicately to his chest, stroked her hair as she fought for breath. "Gods, [y/n], my poor heart, you're terrified. Do you know how much you were screaming?" He put his palm on her cheek, then on her forehead. "You're hot! Are you sick? Did you feel bad in the evening? Why didn't you tell me?"

She kept shaking her head. "No… No… I just… It was just… A nightmare. I had a nightmare."

"Oh, my love," he groaned sympathetically, hugging her tighter, rocking them gently. "I'm so sorry. But it was just a dream. It wasn't real and it's over. Just a dream."

She nodded, reluctantly somewhat. "I know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Images of dark-eyed Julian hovering over her ran through her mind, her body pulsed with pain and remains of pleasure. "No!"

"Shhh…" He pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead. "It's alright. It's okay. You don't have to, sorry, I'm sorry. It's gonna be alright. I love you. I love you so much."

She slumped in his arms. Tears streamed down her face. "I love you, too."

Another kiss - to her wet, heated cheek, to her tousled hair. "Try to sleep, okay?"

She nodded and lied down with him. She clung to his chest and wasn't going to let him roll away this time. The darkness in the room was terrifying her, reminding her of Julian's eyes. Her body kept shaking with exhaustion, her groin throbbed with pain and unresolved tension, and it felt wet and sticky.

And that disgusting sweetness lingered on her tongue.

It must have been a dream. Because what was it if not a dream? It was insane to suspect anything else. It _was_ a dream and it was over and didn't matter and she will forget about it - she repeated this to herself to the very last moment, until Asra's steady breath lulled her back to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

[y/n] ran, as fast as she could, her hand on her mouth, lips pressed together. She burst into the bathroom, fell to her knees in front of the toilet, raised the lid and at last, threw up.

Asra was hot on her heels. He knelt next to her, gathering her hair back and up. "Oh no, my heart… Again?" he groaned.

She spat and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "It's nothing."

"It's been three weeks!"

She spat again and shook her head so he let go of her hair. "Two weeks."

"It doesn't sound any better!"

She ignored him. She flushed and stood up to wash her mouth at the sink.

He frowned miserably. "Please, go to see Ilya. Let him examine you."

"No!" she refused for a hundredth time, stubbornly avoiding his eyes in the mirror. "No, we've had this conversation so many times already! I'm fine, I won't go."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

She spat the water out. "Besides, he doesn't like me."

It seemed like this. The most outgoing, open and cordial of them all avoided her. He'd be all over Nadia or Portia, throw his arm over Asra's shoulders whether he liked it or not and taunt with his friendliness even poor Muriel, but he wouldn't brush against her even by accident. He'd talk and joke and tease everyone - but her. He'd hardly even greet her. But maybe it was good. This way it was easier to control her desire for him, which either way was eating her up, crippling her like a disease.

Sometimes, she missed the plague. It didn't make her feel half this bad and ended her suffering so much faster.

Asra raised his brows. "That's not true. He likes you. He's just been busy lately, that's all."

Ah, yes. It was even easier since he'd started to avoid all of them. Not that it made her feel any better.

"Then I'd rather not add my nonexistent problem to the pile of his work," she announced.

Asra snorted half-amused, half-irritated with her evasions. "And I'm sure he'll squeeze an old friend in between patients." He passed her a towel. She took it but still wouldn't look at him, and it made his heart ache with helplessness. "Come on, please! I know you don't like him, I know he can be annoying, but he's the best in what he does. He'll help."

She turned to him and snapped: "No, Asra, stop! I don't need help!"

He flinched, looking hurt for a split second. Then, he shrugged. "Okay. I'll take you to someone else."

"I said no! I won't see any doctor!"

***

Julian was in his office, slumped over a folder of his last patient of that day, doing some notes. He yawned languidly, rubbed his dry eyes, ran his fingers through his hair over and over again, messing them up even more than it naturally was. He cursed and huffed as he tried to refocus and just finish already. All he wanted was to close up, go to bed and drink until he'd pass out.

A knocking on the door to his office ruined his plans. He started and jerked, scratching a long line across the page.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath.

Thoughtlessly, he wiped it with his fingers, only making it worse.

"God damn it."

He rubbed his hand over his white coat, leaving a black smudge.

"Bloody fucking hell…"

Behind the door, two voices argued quietly. The knocking repeated.

" _Ilya?_ "

"Yes, yes!" he called distractedly while trying to wipe the smudge away. "Please, come in!"

The door opened and Asra's fluffy head popped inside.

"Is the doctor still in?" he grinned. "I know it's a little late…"

"Oh. Hi, Asra. No, yes, come in, he is. I mean, I am. How can I…" he trailed off when he saw [y/n] walk in behind her partner.

Julian shot up from his chair. A wave of heat washed over him, making him shake.

Shortly after that insane dream, he started to avoid her. He just couldn't stand seeing her. Even being in the same room literally, physically hurt. And the way she treated him... It was devastating: her reluctance towards him, her bone-chilling aura, the absolute refusal to acknowledge his existence or worse! - that hostile glare she'd give him when she was forced to address him. As if she knew his dreams and was disgusted by them, and hated him for them. Knowing she was a powerful magician and probably, theoretically _could_ know them made his stomach turn with fear. And it ensured him he should step out of her way. So, he started to excuse himself from all the regular dinners and drinks the five of them used to have. He went to the market when he knew nor [y/n] or Asra would be there. He even missed Muriel's birthday party.

But he didn't predict her walking into his office.

"Hello… [y/n]," he greeted her, struggling to sound calm.

She peeked up at him and stared back at the floor immediately. "Hi."

He cleared his throat and wiped his trembling hands on his coat again, extremely aware of that goddamned smudge, the ink on his fingers, the burning blush on his face and ears, and of how shitty he looked in general. "How can I help you?"

"[y/n]'s sick," Asra spoke bluntly. "Just look at her. She's pale, tired, she's been constantly nauseous for three weeks…"

"Two weeks."

"...puking like a cat. I'm worried about her."

She rolled her eyes. "Asra, I'm fine."

"And she's stubborn," he added. "I barely managed to bring her here. Could you talk some sense into her, please? Maybe she'll listen to you."

Julian swallowed. He felt sick himself. He caught [y/n]'s gaze, just for a second, but it was enough to get the message - she didn't want to be here.

So what the hell made him say: "Yeah, sure."? He didn't know and he regretted it the moment he opened his stupid mouth.

[y/n] shot him a glare which made him want to cry.

But Asra beamed. "Great! Thank you. I knew we could count on you." He turned to [y/n] and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

She almost didn't move away. Almost.

Asra pretended he wasn't hurt by it. "I'll wait outside," he said and walked out, leaving them alone.

They stood as they were, quiet, not looking at each other. The air was thick with awkward tension. Julian felt his skin tingle with it. The silence prolonged and he was afraid the next move was his, so he took a hold of himself as well as he could.

"Well... Why don't you, um… have a seat?" he uttered. "Please?"

She shivered as if the mere sound of his voice repulsed her. But she came up to his desk and sat down in the chair in front of it.

Julian sat down, too, then fumbled with the papers on his desk to buy himself some time to gather his thoughts. "Alright, so, um… I think it's your first time here. I'll set a folder for you." He bent down and rummaged through a drawer. He fished out an empty folder and a sheet of paper. He scribbled her name and surname on the cover. "Date of birth?" he asked (he wouldn't admit he remembered it even if his life depended on it). He paused and wrote down the date only after she gave it. Participation in the community theatre finally paid off. "Um… Okay. So. From what Asra said, I judge it might be a food poisoning but to be sure, I would-"

"I'm late."

His eyes shot to her. "Sorry?"

She was staring blankly at the desk. "I'm late. My period. It's late."

"Oh."

His head spun and vision blurred and his heart painfully skipped a beat. He felt as if he were about to faint. Because it was too much, too much… To see her with him, to see them happy hurt bad enough. And now, it turned out she was having his baby. Probably the first of many more. They were going to have a big, beautiful family and what? With Julian as their family doctor?

He drew in a shaky breath. It took all his willpower to stay professional and go on with the questions.

He focused on taking notes. "How long?"

"Two weeks."

"That's… long."

"I know."

"And you've been experiencing nausea…?"

"Yes."

"Fatigue? Headaches?"

"Yes."

"Mood swings?"

"If swings between sad and annoyed count, then yes."

"Alright. It… um." He took another deep breath to fight off his own nausea. He desperately needed a drink. He put down the quill, moved the papers, picked up the quill, touched his hair, absolutely clueless how to act. "Well, it should say it all. Further questions seem redundant."

A moment passed before she breathed weakly: "I suppose so."

Julian looked at her, this time really looked at her. She was unhealthily pale, her hair plain, her eyes tired and bloodshot, dark circles underneath them, shoulders hunched.

He was confused now. Sure, some women were scared or tired during the first weeks of pregnancy but they never appeared so… wrecked.

Something was wrong.

"You don't seem surprised," he noticed.

She shook her head.

"Why didn't you tell Asra then?"

She didn't answer. A blush crept up her neck and cheeks. She blinked rapidly and bit on her lip. Her chin crumpled and she pressed her hand to her mouth but her face contorted either way and thick tears rolled down her face.

Julian's chest split with pain so fucking real as if he got stabbed. And he knew how it felt.

He was making a move to stand up, to come up to her, led by instinct, her name forming on his lips, when she sniffled and angrily wiped the tears away.

"I just still hope it's not true," she choked out.

He sat back down, even more confused. But he didn't think he was in position to ask why she'd say that. Still, he wanted to help. Even though it was hopeless. "Alright… So, um… I… I could examine you," he offered, though the mere thought of touching her, even in a doctor-patient relation, terrified the shit out of him. But it wasn't about him. "Maybe, maybe… Maybe it's something else. Something could cause the same set of symptoms. I could… search for it. If you want." _Say no, say no, say no_ , he chanted in his head.

At last, she raised her red, watery eyes to his, looking small and lost and so vulnerable. And it was torture to see her like this. It was even worse than seeing her happy.

 _What did Asra do to you?_ , he wondered and it made something feral and angry wake up in him. If he hurt her...

"Yes, please," she breathed, cutting off his musings.

Fuck.

Another deep breath. He had to stay calm. "Okay then. Could you, um… have a seat on the couch and…" How did he find himself in this? "...take off your shirt, please?"

Without a word, she stood up, moved to the couch and unbuttoned her shirt, still crying quietly. In the meantime, Julian put on disposable gloves and grabbed the stethoscope. With her back to her, he closed his eyes and breathed to contain himself. He wanted to cry, to scream, to run away and never look back. He scolded himself for not having done it when he had a chance.

When he couldn't delay it any longer, he turned around and came up to the couch. [y/n] sat there stiffly, back straight, face blank, cheeks wet. She wore only a modest bralette. Julian sat down behind her, put the earpieces in, rubbed the resonator against his sleeve and raised it to her back, trying to look at her without actually seeing her.

"It may be still a little cold," he warned her before he placed it on her skin. She gasped. "Sorry."

She shook her head.

"Breathe deeply, please."

She did as he asked. And he listened. And it was hell. It was a torment to listen to it shake and hitch, to hear her fluttering heartbeat, like a bird thrashing against the walls of a cage; to hear her fear so closely. He had to fight off a sudden urge to hold her, console her, protect her, to make everything alright.

He clenched his teeth. He couldn't. She wasn't his to protect.

He removed the resonator and took out the earpieces. "Lungs and heart clear," he said. "Could you lie down? I'd… examine your stomach."

She nodded. He stood up to give her space and put the stethoscope aside. When he turned to her, she was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, waiting for him.

"Alright," he sighed. It was a torture designed to break him. And it was his idea. And he had to go on. "Alright." He perched on the edge of the couch. He looked at her belly and didn't stop a wave of very much inappropriate ideas that ran through his head - how it would be to smooth his hands down the slope of her waist, to lean in and kiss her slowly, gently, from her breastbone all the way down to the arc of her hips, tasting her skin…

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second to get rid of the images. He peeked up at her face but she still wasn't looking at him, even though he was evidently having troubles concentrating. He breathed a small sigh of relief and got a hold of himself. She was a patient, just a patient, like many others he had today and yesterday and the day before and before. Just a human, a body in pain, seeking his help - nothing more, nothing less.

He clung to this thought and started the examination. He put his fingers on her stomach and kneaded on it, under the ribs, making her hold her breath and tense up. "Sorry, I know it's unpleasant," he murmured sheepishly. "But try to relax."

She didn't answer, only took a short, shaky breath, trying to do as he said.

"Good. Thank you." He moved to the left, to the pancreas. "Tell me if anything hurts or feels odd, alright?"

She nodded shortly.

He went on, inch by inch, thoroughly. He checked the liver, moved lower, to the appendix, the intestines… He had to pull the waist of her skirt down a little bit and slide his fingers under the hem to get access to the ovaries and uterus.

He was utterly shaken when he finished. "You can dress up," he mumbled and got up hastily, ripping off the gloves, almost running to the trash bin to throw them away, then to the washing basin to wash his hands.

"And?" she asked, her voice so small he barely heard her.

"I didn't find anything off. You seem perfectly healthy," he said, scrubbing his hands furiously as if to remove from them the memory of the feeling of her body. "I might also…" he heard himself say. He must had been crazy. He couldn't believe what he was about to suggest. "I could also examine you... gynaecologically." He wiped his hands in a towel hard enough to irritate skin, hating himself and feeling utterly sick. "But it would be only to confirm that you… Because to me, you are… It is… It must be..." He risked turning to her, hoping she got the point and he didn't have to force these words out.

[y/n] had dressed up and still sat on the couch. She nodded, staring at her lap, then shook her head. Julian interpreted these as an understanding to his stammering and a 'no, thank you' to his offer. But before he sighed in relief and congratulated himself, she slumped with her face in her hands and burst out with tears, sobbing loudly, almost screaming, scaring the living daylights out of him.

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when Asra banged on the door.

" _What's going on? Ilya!_ " he called. " _[y/n], honey? I'm coming in!_ " He burst in without waiting for invitation. Within a second, he was at [y/n]'s side, pulling her into his arms. "What happened, my heart? Why are you crying? What's wrong? Tell me, my love, I'm begging you, I'm losing my mind," he whispered, his voice soft but urgent, panic shining in his big eyes. "Ilya, what's wrong with her?" he turned to him when she refused to answer, still crying, choking on her tears, her breath catching.

Julian froze. His mind shut down. He opened and closed his mouth and said nothing.

"Ilya!" Asra snapped at him.

"I… I… I can't!" he babbled. "If she- I mustn't! Ethics..."

"Fuck ethics!" Asra sprung up and came at him. Julian recoiled, his back hit the basin. "Tell me why she's crying! What's wrong? Is she sick?"

"No! I mean- "

Asra grabbed him by the collar and jerked him down to face him. "Then what?! What the fuck did you do to her?! I swear to all the gods, if you- !"

"No, Asra, please!" She jumped to her feet and squeezed in between them, pushing Asra away. "I'm not sick, he didn't do anything, I'm just… just… I'm pregnant."

Asra stared at her. He paled, then blushed and blinked. "But…" he murmured. He risked a careful smile. "But that's good, isn't it?"

[y/n] hesitated. She nodded without conviction.

Asra beamed. "That's wonderful! Oh, my heart, my love, it's amazing!" He swept her into his arms and spun them around, laughing, kissing her hair and cheek and repeating how much he loved her.

[y/n] held on to him, trying to smile when he looked at her, but otherwise grimacing as if in pain. At one moment, for just a second, her eyes locked with Julian's over Asra's shoulder. Merely a second but it was charged with unspoken despair and yearning, and it weighed in Julian's memory like a rock at his neck pulling him down, down to his end.


	4. Chapter 4

Asra was excited.

After having saved the city and restored harmony in the Arcana dimensions, his beloved girl was once and for all safe and sound. On top of it, she chose him, loved him and now, was expecting their child.

Perfect, wasn't it?

Or was it?

One evening, he found her in the kitchen slumped over a cup of tea gone cold, her head in her hands. He wasn't surprised, not anymore. She'd been like this for a couple of days, since Ilya confirmed she was pregnant. Since then, she'd been silent, detached, looking sick and exhausted. And Asra would happily explain it with her body adjusting to its new state if only she weren't avoiding him without even pretending not to.

Unlike for the past few months.

He had no idea what happened, what and when went wrong. They didn't have a fight, of this he was sure. And even if they did, even if he downplayed a banter, this was not how they dealt with such problems. He'd been thinking what he did or said that could hurt or offend her so much that she wouldn't speak to him, touch him and tense up when he hugged or kissed her as if he were a stranger. Days bled into weeks, weeks into months, and whenever he asked her, she smiled and laughed his worries off, and he was desperate to believe her. And so he did. He tried to convince himself that he was wrong, that he misinterpreted her behaviour, that he was seeing things. After all, she had the right to be down, to need space and time, not to be in the mood for his company or caresses or sex. And he respected this - day after day, week after week… And nothing changed. And he felt more and more neglected and unhappy and lonely in this relationship, with no idea how to fix it.

Not to mention that her turning out to be pregnant after denying him for over two months was suspicious. To put it mildly.

He came up and leaned on a chair at the table across from her. He stood like this for a minute or two, waiting for her to notice him.

She didn't.

"What's wrong?" he asked at last, making her start as if he crept up on her. It hurt and annoyed him equally.

She rose her big, red, watery eyes at him. He thought about how he used to stare at them, for hours if he could, never having enough of their beauty. He couldn't lately though, when they were filled with anger, grief and tears.

"Nothing," she breathed.

Asra grimaced, his chest clenching. "Please, don't lie to me." He hated the way she stared back into her cup. It looked pretty much like shame. "What's wrong?"

He waited but she wouldn't answer. Didn't she hear him? Understand him? Did she hope he'd go away if she ignored him?

Not tonight.

She jumped in her seat when he slammed his hand on the table.

"[y/n]! Wake up! I'm sick of this! Tell me what happened to you or I'll lose my mind!"

She held his gaze and her chin crumpled and tears overflowed her eyes. "I don't know," she uttered.

He huffed impatiently. "Should I know? Should I know why you've been acting like this? Like you're disgusted or scared of me?"

"No, Asra- "

"Or why we haven't slept with each other for months? Or why you barely touch me or even look at me?!"

"I know, Asra, I'm sorry…"

"Or if you still love me!"

"I do, Asra, I do!" she exclaimed, already crying abundantly.

He ignored it. "Or even if this baby is mine."

To this, she didn't reply. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the back of her hand to her trembling lips.

Her silence hit him harder than if she said no.

He needed to take a few deep breaths to be sure his voice wouldn't break when he went on, straining to be calm. "I don't know the answers to all these questions. Nor to many more which have been bothering me. And I don't like the answers I can think of, so _please_." He clenched his hands on the back of the chair. "Please, explain."

He tried to be patient when she was silent, looking for words. It cost him the very remainings of his sanity. But he tried - for her.

"I don't know how," she said at last.

He closed his eyes and took another breath. "Try."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Too late."

Her face contorted, more tears rolled down her face. More time passed before she spoke. "About a month ago, I… I had a dream." She paused and peeked at him.

Asra didn't know what she expected. He just struggled not to yell at her. "What did you dream of?"

Her answer was like another punch and Asra was glad he had the chair to hold on to. "Julian."

"Tell me more," he whispered, feeling sick, his whole body tingling.

She blinked, letting a few more tears escape, and sucked in a shaky breath. "I dreamt that…" Her voice broke. "he was here. In our bed, next to me. We… talked. And then… we got close."

She paused again and when she didn't go on, Asra assumed she was done. He took his time analysing her words.

An incredulous laughter bubbled in his chest. "Are you telling me..." He barked out a sharp laugh, startling her. "...that you've been like this because of one wet dream about Ilya?"

She blushed - nervous blotches of red on her lovely neck and cheeks. "This one was different."

His eyes went wide and he laughed again. " _This one_? So there was more. Great! Just great. And what was so different about it, pray tell?"

She stared down at her hands on her lap. "It felt real."

"A lucid dream," he huffed. "So what?"

"No, it wasn't that. It was… more. Like he really was there. I saw him like I see you now. And he- He touched me and I... I _felt_ it. And I could touch him, too, and… But… He…" she stammered and her voice broke again.

"He what?" he prompted impatiently.

"He was strange!" she burst. "Cold, hollow, like… like… like a dummy! He looked and spoke like him but something was off, like he pretended to be himself! And he tasted so terribly, inhumanly sweet! And it made me weak and confused and sick!" She shook her head, the fear at the memory shining in her eyes. "It, it… It couldn't have been him. In any way. Not even in a dream."

She finished and he didn't comment. The silence between them was deafening. Heavy. Tangible. It prolonged. A small, cold eternity.

"And when I woke up," she decided to add. "I still… felt him. I was confused and scared. And sore. And now… _this_ , and… I don't know what to think about it."

She dared to look at him but this time, he wasn't looking at her. And his face, his eyes - those were blank. Not angry, not hurt nor sad. Blank.

"Please, say something," she whined. She'd rather he screamed at her.

But he didn't. He didn't move. He didn't even blink.

"Asra, please…"

He flinched and then, walked out to the bedroom.

[y/n] moved the cup away and stood up. "Asra?" She heard him rummage through their things, heard paper rustle. She started at a heavy thump of something falling to the floor. She started again when he came back as suddenly as he walked out, paging through a book. He stopped when he found what he looked for and read silently for quite a while.

"Asra, what is it?" she asked, desperate to hear at least a word from him.

He ignored her and kept reading. At last, he snorted and tossed the book on the table, open on the chapter he skimmed. "Dress up. We need to go," he ordered coldly and returned to the bedroom.

She pulled the book near her. Her eyes slided over the text. Her chin crumpled and a few more tears ran down her cheeks and dripped on the pages. "No…"

"And I think _yes_." He threw her her coat. She caught it clumsily. "Because if no, then I'll fucking kill him. Dress up, let's go."

She kept reading, putting the coat on. "So it was real?"

"Real enough."

"Asra, if I knew- "

He took the book away from her and marched to the stairs. "Let's go."

She followed him meekly. "Where?"

"To Ilya, to ask him about his wet dreams."

***

Asra pounded on the back door of Julian's clinic. He pounded on it for a very long time before they heard footsteps on the stairs leading to the flat. The door opened with Julian leaning heavily on it. He was pale like a corpse, unshaved, disheveled and obviously drunk numb. He reeked of alcohol.

He'd been drinking non-stop since their last visit.

"We need to talk," Asra informed him.

Julian groaned, rubbing his face, his eyes, then opened them wide and blinked, trying to focus. He swayed on his feet as if what - or whom - he saw literally pushed him away. "Not th'best time," he slurred and made a move to close the door.

Asra huffed, blocked it with his foot and pushed it open. He stepped inside, reached up and crudely grabbed a handful of Julian's hair. Julian yelped in pain, then screamed and panted, holding on to the door for dear life as Asra's spell sobered him up. His shaking legs gave up under him and he fell to his knees.

"Better?" he mocked. "Get a hold of yourself, for fuck's sake. Don't make us wait forever." He stomped up the stairs.

But [y/n] stayed at the door, looking at bent in half Julian, moaning pathetically and shaking. She was reaching out to him, not entirely sure how to act, when Asra barked her name.

" _Come up here!_ " he yelled, and she walked passed Julian with her head down.

Upstairs, Asra opened all the windows, lit a fire in the hearth with a miniature explosion, then started to pace around like a lion in a cage. Meanwhile, [y/n] tiptoed to the far corner and leaned against Julian's desk, as far from him as she dared without annoying him more, far enough to stay out of his way.

A couple of long, tense minutes later, Julian joined them in his living room, still looking awful but now also sober. And furious.

He glared at Asra. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

Asra, before he spoke, eyed him up and down unhurriedly. Just to undermine his confidence. It worked - Julian shrunk and took a minimal step back.

"What did you dream of a month ago?" he asked then.

Julian's brows shot up. "Have you gone mad?!"

"Just answer."

"How am I supposed to remember what I dreamt of? A month ago! You're crazy! Get out!"

"Let me rephrase," Asra offered patiently as if he were talking to a child. " _Who_ did you dream of?"

Julian opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off but hesitated. He blushed all over instantly and his eyes fleeted to [y/n], then to the floor.

Asra nodded. For a split second, a painful grimace ruined his cold facade. "Didn't it seem strange?" he hissed. "Realistic? As if you could really touch her? Feel her? Taste her? Wasn't she sweet?"

Julian scowled at him, eyes dark, teeth bared. "I'm not going to talk about it," he growled. "Leave me alone."

Asra just stared. Then, he took the book out of his pocket. It opened on the right chapter without him looking. "Guess who [y/n] dreamt of the same night." He handed him the book.

Julian frowned in confusion. He took it reluctantly. He skimmed the text. His frown deepened, and he shook his head. "I don't understand..."

"Oh, don't you?" Asra narrowed his eyes at him. "Here, have a hint: [y/n] and I haven't slept with each other for months."

Julian looked away in embarrassment, then peeked at her again, saw her put her arms around her and blush. "That's none of my- "

"At the same time," Asra cut him off. "we shared the bed every night. She hardly ever left without me, I hardly ever left without her. We ran the shop together, walked together, shopped together, cooked, ate and sat in silence for hours _together_. And now she's pregnant! And tells me you fucked her in a dream!"

"And succubi and incubi are your best explanation?" Julian snarled at him, feeling an irrational need to defend himself, which made him both angry and scared.

"Have you got a better one?"

Julian clenched his teeth and read the chapter again, more carefully now. Either way, he shook his head again and snorted. "You can't be serious!"

"I wish I wasn't."

"Are you trying to say that… No! It's impossible! You're insane!"

"Am I?!" Asra yelled, losing control. Tears shone in his narrowed eyes. "Were you not visited by an succubus who impersonated [y/n]? Who intoxicated you and took your seed and then, as an incubus, seduced and impregnated her? With me sleeping right next to her!!"

Julian kept shaking his head, staring back at the text as if he could find there help. "No. No, no, no, it's impossible," he persisted. "These… These are myths!" He shut the book definitely. "Scary, perverse bedtime stories for adults!"

"Seriously, Ilya," Asra snorted, turning around and strolling towards the fireplace to blink the tears away. "I know you're no magician but I thought you'd taken part in enough scary bedtime stories to believe."

Julian poked the book accusingly. "This is a lame excuse for adulterers! Nothing more!"

"Perfect!" he laughed. "We're finally getting somewhere - you start to call the things what they are!" Asra flashed him a sarcastic smile, making him blush even brighter.

"No, Asra, I didn't mean- "

He raised a hand. "No, I don't want to hear it. I'm done. I've got nothing more to say and if you don't believe me…" He shrugged. "Then [y/n], _honey_ ," She flinched at him addressing her so suddenly. "you talk to him. I think you should anyway. I'm going back home," he announced and without further ado, walked out. Downstairs, he slammed the door behind himself, leaving them once again all alone with nothing but heavy silence between them.

"[y/n]?" Julian broke it helplessly. "Please… I don't understand. What he says… He can't be serious. Please, tell me he's wrong."

She stared at the floor for a while, rubbing her shoulders for comfort. "All he said is true," she spoke at last. The sound of her voice, so soft and resigned - it made his heart clench. His hands fell to his sides. "And I did dream about you," she went on. "About a month ago. You were in our bed, next to me, smiling. You were so close and so real, like never before, and I missed you so bad that I didn't need much convincing that it was just an innocent dream. I confessed you everything because I couldn't bear it any longer. And you told me you felt the same way about me. We kissed and you… it was sweet. At first, it was good and I couldn't get enough. But I think it made me weak and dizzy. You- _He_ took me. And even though it felt incredibly good, I couldn't get rid of a feeling that something was wrong. He was cold, his skin was hard and smooth like glass, and I couldn't feel his heartbeat… But whenever I realised so or wanted to do something, he'd kiss me and make me forget about the doubts. Then, he finished, left me sore and scared, and just before it all ended, he said something I didn't quite understand… He said: _Let me kiss you before…_ "

"... _before you fall back asleep_ ," Julian finished with her.

She looked at him at last. "Then, he kissed me and I passed out, and Asra woke me up. He told me I was screaming."

Julian held her gaze for only a second more before he averted his eyes, emotions storming in him - fear, anger, hope - making him sick. He struggled to think, to understand, to remain objective and reasonable… But [y/n] had just summarised his own dream, had mentioned all the details that amazed and worried him in it. And so, he believed her. He couldn't help it. He believed every word she said, no matter how illogical it seemed to him, no matter how much his practical mind resisted. But at the same time, he couldn't believe this, couldn't comprehend it. He didn't want to. He didn't want it to be true. Because if it was true, if Asra was right...

He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. He felt numb, barely felt his legs. He stared at the book, gripped it, held on to it like to the last thing keeping him connected to the here and now. "I thought you hated me," he said at last.

Her eyes went wide, her brows knit. "I don't hate you," she replied earnestly. "I never did."

"I thought- "

"I love you," she breathed, and his eyes shot up to her.

His heart hammered, making him see black for a split second. It couldn't be, he must had misheard. "What…?"

But she squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, her cheeks turning red, and she rushed to the stairs, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry…" she mumbled.

"No, [y/n], please, wait!"

He caught her by the wrist and she let him stop her. She looked up at him, her eyes big and fearful, shimmering with tears, and he struggled to think, to find words and courage to say them out loud.

Seconds passed, and [y/n] slipped out gently out of his hand, holding his gaze to the very last moment, until she disappeared behind the corner and ran downstairs and outside, leaving him to think it all over and beat himself up for being a coward for the rest of the night.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Julian stayed up all night, trying to think. Asra's sobering spell, very much unsolicited and subtle like a hammer, did clear his mind but absolutely didn't prepare him for what he was told. It was hard to accept, even after hearing it from her lips. So, he read the chapter in that bloody book over and over again, feeling helpless, hoping that maybe if he read it one more time, he'd notice something he missed the previous time; that something would just click, he'd prove everyone wrong, [y/n] and Asra would go back to be happy together - away from him - and that sick, _sick_ situation would be solved and over.

So he did, he read it again and again until his eyes hurt and the words imprinted in his memory, and he just wanted to throw the book into the roaring fireplace and forget everything. At those moments, his first thought was to drink. To simply, normally drink, to get smashed until he can't move, can't think, can't feel his face or hands nor his breaking heart. And he tried to. Several times. He would toss the book away, grab a bottle and raise it to his lips. Here, he'd stop. He'd remember the abominable state she'd seen him in and the shame would strike him harder than alcohol ever did.

By the dawn, he'd gotten rid of all the bottles, both the empty and the full, cleaned the flat, bathed, shaved, changed and poured into himself a couple of cups of coffee. A little too late to make good impression on the love of your life but still. At least getting busy and neat helped him think. And the more he thought about it, the more sense it made to him - exact opposite of the purpose the thinking had. But it was difficult to deny: Vesuvia's number one couple was falling apart, its most powerful sorceress expecting, and in some way in hell, all of this was his fault. Because he was dying of love to her, so when there was a chance to get drugged, fucked and fucking _robbed_ by a goddamn _succubus_ looking like her, he (Vesuvia's number one fool) obviously took it. And it would be perfectly fine by him and probably everyone else if it only didn't make him simultaneously sign up for fathering [y/n]'s child.

This bit was the hardest to swallow. The realisation made him feel used and abused, but it didn't hurt as much as feeling responsible for [y/n]'s misery. If only he could keep his cock in his pants, if only he could stay away from her also in dreams… she would be fine now.

But what did he have besides dreams?

Nevermind. He had to fix it. He _needed_ to fix it - for her. He wanted her happy, that's all. With Asra or anyone else - but happy. The rest didn't matter. He didn't matter.

But what should and could he do to remove himself from her - their - life?

A pounding on the back door disturbed his musings. It found him sitting on the floor (anxiously swept and scrubbed), staring at the smouldering logs in the hearth, passing the book from hand to hand as if not reading, then maybe touching it could give him a hint. He let the pounding repeat twice more before he got up and went downstairs to see what the fuck Asra wanted from him again.

He opened the door. Asra looked terrible: watery eyes, dark circles underneath them, his hair a mess. He obviously also didn't sleep a wink.

Julian relished at how Asra's scowl almost didn't impress him. "What now?"

Asra scowled at him. "I want the book back."

Julian leaned on the door frame - a forearm against it, his forehead against his wrist, taking a delightful advantage of the height difference. He quite enjoyed that this time, it was Asra who recoiled. "You came all the way here," he snorted. "at the crack of dawn, just for the book?" He waited for him to answer. Asra just glared. "I know it by heart now," he went on then. "and I'm telling you there are no secrets that would make this mess any better."

Asra looked away, obviously fighting with himself. "I need your help," he said at last.

Julian's eyebrows shot up. "My help," he repeated incredulously.

"Yes."

"How unexpected."

"Ilya… You do know what happened." He paused, waiting for confirmation. Julian nodded. "So you know you're involved, more than any of us would wish," he added, earning a scowl. But he held it. "I need you to go with me. To talk to her. To figure it all out."

"Maybe later," Julian said and pushed the door to close it.

"Please!" Asra blocked it with his hand. For a second, desperation shone in his eyes. "She won't talk to me. I knocked on the door to the bedroom today and she ignored me. I'm getting worried."

Julian hesitated.

Asra sighed. "Please."

Julian rolled his eyes. He did not feel like spending time with Asra today. "In a moment," he said and shut the door in his face. Walking up the stairs for the book, his boots and coat, he wondered how to offer [y/n] his help.

***

"How is she?" Julian asked as they walked to the shop.

"I don't know. I was in the backroom when she came back and, like I said, haven't seen her today."

"Right."

"But I imagine."

"Sure."

And that was it. For the rest of the way, there was only awkward silence and about two metres of space between them. After what felt like an hour, they reached the shop. They walked in.

Smell of blood struck them.

"[y/n]!" Asra called and sprinted upstairs.

Julian was right behind him, his heart hammering painfully with worry. They stormed into the bedroom. It was empty.

"[y/n]! Where are you?!" Asra kept calling her, panic raising in his voice. He burst into the kitchen, then ran to the bathroom. He pushed on the knob.

It was locked.

The smell of blood was the strongest from there.

"[y/n]! Are you okay?" He waited for an answer. Seconds passed, bleeding into a forever. "[y/n]! Open up!"

"Step aside," Julian breathed, then shouldered the door once, twice, then with Asra's added strength, the lock broke and they almost fell inside.

The reek of blood was overwhelming there, made them wrinkle their noses and squint. The bathtub was moved to the centre of the room, a chalk and salt circle drawn around it, twigs of white heather placed and low candles burning between sigils on the ambit. An empty vial and a book open and spine up lied discarded on the floor. [y/n] was in the tub, unconscious, pale, sweaty, nude from waist down. The blood had already crept up to the middle button of her white shirt - there was so much of it.

Julian was first to react. He leapt to the tub, shrugging off his coat and rolling the sleeves up. Without hesitation, he dipped one arm into the blood bath and under her knees and the other pushed behind her back, and heaved her up, splashing around, tinting the salt and heathers red, extinguishing the candles with a hiss and a string of smoke.

Asra flinched out of his stupor. "Is she dead?" he choked out.

Julian kneeled with her, sat her down between his legs, with her back leaned against his chest and her head on his shoulder. With one hand he checked the pulse on her neck, with the other checked both her wrists. "No." He put a hand to her forehead. He swore under his breath. "But she lost so much blood, may be still bleeding, her pulse is slow, she's barely breathing… Asra!" he snapped at him, still rooted to the spot. "I need your help now! Take this bottle, this book! Tell me what she did!"

Asra fell to his knees next to them, grabbed the bottle and sniffed it. He moved it away and grimaced. "Cohosh."

"Fuck," Julian groaned. "She provoked a miscarriage. She must've overdosed, too. And this… this… _spell_?"

Asra picked up the book open on the chapter [y/n] used. His eyes darted between the circle and the pages. "It's…" He shook his head. "She combined a protection spell with one for a removal." He pulled her soaked shirt a few inches up her stomach. On her womb, under a layer of blood, they could see an intricate symbol drawn with ink. The same was in the centre of the circle under the tub.

Julian swallowed. A chill ran down his spine and cold sweat sprinkled his forehead. If taking too much herbal tincture wasn't enough, magic had to be also involved. Perfect.

But he got a hold of himself. "I guess the protection one didn't work well," he murmured, still monitoring her pulse. "Check if she's bleeding."

Asra gave him a confused look. He peeked at her groin. "She's literally sitting in a puddle of blood."

"Put your hand between her legs," Julian explained, straining to keep calm. "and see if it's flowing."

Asra nodded and awkwardly nudged her thighs apart. He slipped his hand between them, under her buttocks and observed.

"And?" Julian rushed him. "She doesn't have the whole day!"

"No! It's not flowing. Just a few drops."

"Good. Oh god, good, at least this…" he sighed. Still pressing his fingers to her pulsepoint, he again checked her forehead, then put his palm on her chest. "Fuck, she's getting worse. She lost too much…"

"So what now? Do something!"

Julian groaned, being in two mind. He decided. "She needs a transfusion."

"A _what_?"

"I could give her someone else's blood but- "

"Give her mine."

"Asra, it's too risky, I don't- "

"She's dying! That's pretty risky to me!"

"Can you shut up and listen? It's not that simple, there are blood groups- "

"Cut the lecture and just do it!"

"If it's incompatible, it'll kill her!"

"We've got the same heart. Is this compatible enough for you?"

Julian held his stubborn gaze for a second. "Bring me a tube, two needles for each end and alcohol."

Asra hesitated, frowned. "Ilya…"

"JUST DO IT!" Julian burst, making him jump to his feet.

Asra ran out and a moment later, Julian could hear him bustle through the kitchen. He flinched at the sound of glass breaking but before he could get worried about it, Asra was rushing back, carrying a rubber tube and a bottle.

"It's from the distillation set."

"Will do. Disinfect the needles and the crook of your and her arm."

Asra did as he said, splashing the rum around, on his and Julian's clothes, and on the floor where it mixed with the blood and drove up its sickening smell.

"Come up here," Julian commanded and grabbed Asra's wrist when he approached. He patted the crook of his arm a couple of times. "Clench your hand." Asra did, then he inserted the needle, precisely but not quite gently. Asra hissed and winced, but Julian ignored him. "Open. Arm up," he told him. Asra did as he told him, and a redness ran down the tube. When Asra's blood dripped out the other needle, Julian carefully inserted the needle into [y/n]'s limp arm.

And they waited.

"How much?" Asra asked.

"I don't know."

Asra glared at him. "You _don't know_?!"

"I practiced on people dying of the plague!" he countered. "Somehow, no one lived long enough to tell me how they were after."

"So we're going to pour that into her forever or what?"

"I don't know! Fuck! Okay! Until you start to feel weak. Happy?"

"Thrilled."

And they waited. And waited. At one point Asra needed to prop his arm on his knee and his hand on his head. He opened and closed his hand, grimacing in discomfort. At last, just when Asra's eyes started to get blurry, Julian decided that [y/n]'s pulse sped up significantly.

"Alright, that's enough."

Asra shook his head, closed and opened his eyes. "No, keep going, I'm fine."

"Suddenly you know better? I said _enough_."

Asra didn't argue. They removed the needles, Asra fetched some bandages for [y/n] and him, and Julian dressed their punctures. They washed her as much as they could and dared and changed her into a bathrobe. Asra carried her to bed. There, Julian, having no tools with him, again felt her pulse and temperature with his hands, listened to her breath and heartbeat by lying his head on her chest.

All of this under Asra's vigilant, jealous gaze. "How is she?"

Julian sat up. "Better, I think. Pulse and breathing normal, body temperature too."

"She looks like she's sleeping."

Julian nodded. "She'll have to eat when she wakes up."

"Sure." He sighed with evident relief. Then, Julian took her hand in his, feeling her pulse one more time, and Asra frowned. "Oh, come on... Stop groping her already," he groaned, making Julian let go of her and glare at him.

Asra came up to the wardrobe and rummaged through it. He pulled out a pair of trousers too big for both of them and a shirt. He tossed them to Julian. "Change and wash up. You can do it in the kitchen."

"Thanks," he mumbled and went out.

A moment later, Asra heard water running, and he hunched, feeling exhausted.

He looked at [y/n], his sweet, lovely [y/n], at her eyelids fluttering softly, at blush rising slowly to her cheeks. She stirred and sighed, truly asleep. The view made his heart ache. Something was telling him it was the last time he was seeing her like this.

He grabbed some clean clothes for himself, changed quickly and when the kitchen had fallen silent, he went there to wash her blood off of his hands, too.

He found Julian sitting at the table with his head in his hands. He barely flinched when Asra walked past him and ran the water in the sink, scrubbed his hands and forearms and splashed his face a couple of times. He wiped himself with a dishcloth, brushed away his damp hair from his forehead to only have them fall back into his eyes. He sighed and opened a top cupboard, fished out a bottle of mead and showed it to Julian with a questioning shake.

The liquid bubbled, drawing his attention. His eyes lit up. But he hesitated.

He shook his head. "No, thanks."

"You sure?"

"Yes. It doesn't help."

"Right." Asra put the bottle away and closed the cupboard. "What does help?"

"Nothing," Julian answered without missing a beat.

"Alright. Tea then," he decided and busied himself with a kettle and cups, with his back to Julian, thoughts buzzing at the back of his head like bees in a hive.

He almost lost her. Really lost her - again. All of this because _again_ he was too proud and too angry to be there for her! When will he learn?!

Asra bit his lip hard enough to taste blood and squeezed his eyes shut to stop a wave of tears. When he could breathe again and his hands stopped shaking, he poured water into the kettle.

But she was fine, thank gods. And by some twisted irony, _again_ , it was Ilya who helped her.

And maybe that was good? Maybe it was a sign? Because she didn't love him anymore. She said she did but no, it wasn't the same. Maybe he still was her friend but he would never, ever be her lover again. Because she wanted Ilya now. She'd been dreaming about him gods know for how long already, the guilt eating her up.

 _Good_ , he thought viciously. At least she was decent enough to feel guilty.

But it was hardly a consolation. Knowing she'd been lusting over _him_ and fucking _him_ in her dreams - it was making Asra sick! Made him feel betrayed as if she'd really been sneaking out to see Ilya, leaving him behind to wonder what he did wrong.

Whistling of the kettle drowned out his pained, resigned sigh. He put out the fire underneath it. His hands were shaking again when he was reaching for a can of tea.

She wanted Ilya. And Ilya wanted her - Asra had been suspecting this much since always. Ilya tended to be weak for a pretty face and smile, especially if a loving heart was included in the set, and she'd got all of those and more. But he'd never made a move towards her. He never touched her, flirted with her nor made eyes at her. And Asra was grateful and respected him deeply for that. But now, it turned out how badly he was in love with her. It turned out that his deteriorating state, his distancing and drinking were caused by his yearning for her. And for some infuriating reason, it was making Asra feel guilty! Like he found out that his friend had been sad because he envied him a toy! And if it were a toy, Asra would have fucking happily shared! But it wasn't! It was [y/n]! His [y/n]!

He drummed his fingers angrily on the counter, then slumped and sighed once more. He wiped away the tears that overflowed his eyes with the back of his hand and poured water into a pot.

He told himself he couldn't be angry with Ilya about it. Especially that she didn't want to be Asra's anymore. She already wasn't, even though she kept living with him because of decency or guilt or pity or whatever.

He poured tea into the cups, wondering what they might had talked about last night after he left. But he imagined. And it didn't matter. He knew what he was seeing - she belonged to Ilya, and Ilya belonged entirely, blindly, hopelessly to her.

This left Asra out, made him redundant in such an arrangement.

He served the tea and sat down across from Julian. Neither of them spoke. After minutes of silence, Julian broke it.

"You know," he murmured, warming his hands against the cup. "In fact, I came here to offer her exactly this."

Asra raised his brows, only mildly surprised. "An abortion?"

Julian nodded and Asra snorted.

"She was faster."

"Shame. I wouldn't make her almost bleed out to death."

Asra hummed in response, agreeing vaguely.

A few more minutes passed in silence.

"Why would you?" Asra asked suddenly, trying to keep venom and hurt out of his voice, and almost succeeding. "It was yours."

Heat immediately shot to Julian's face. He stared into his cup, bit his lip and shook his head slowly. "No, it wasn't," he uttered. "Neither mine nor hers, no one wanted it, no one asked for it. It was a deceit, she got abused." He blinked rapidly, moved in his seat. He took a sip of his tea and ran his fingers through his hair. "I wanted to offer her my help so you could return to being together. Without me between you."

Asra's eyes went wide, completely dumbstruck, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. "Didn't you listen to me?" he hissed after a moment. "Or have you forgotten? She doesn't want me."

"That's not- "

"She doesn't. She wants _you_!"

Julian kept shaking his head as if to fend away the idea like an annoying fly. "No, you belong together, you- "

Asra glared at him. "We do not anymore! She. Wants. You!"

He shook his head like crazy. "No. No, I'll… I'll better go now, you know?" He pushed himself away from the table. "Yes, I'll go, I should go."

"Seriously?" Asra huffed, leaning back. "You're fleeing already? That's how you take care of her?"

Julian froze in his step. "Excuse me?" He bristled. "Did I blink when I was being appointed to her partner and keeper?"

"I thought you loved her."

"I do!" he burst. "And I think I did quite alright by saving her life! Fucking hell, was there anything at all in that book about what happens after the ritual? Safety measures? Precautions? Side effects? No? Fuck, I hate magic!" he cursed and slumped back into the chair.

To his surprise, Asra didn't respond. Perhaps he even agreed with him on that.

"You're right," he said suddenly. "I'm sorry. You did perfect."

Julian snorted bitterly. "Thanks…"

"And know that I don't blame you," Asra went on. "For anything that happened."

His brows shot up. "Oh? Why the change of heart? The baby was mine, wasn't it?"

"No, you were right. It wasn't your fault."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't you who she let put it in her."

Julian frowned miserably. "Don't think like this! It wasn't her fault."

"She slept with an incubus thinking it was you," he put it harshly, his lips curling with disgust.

"She thought it was just a dream."

"So what?!" he snapped, leaning over the table, making Julian flinch.

"Dreams are for things we can't" he explained softly. "or wouldn't do in real life."

Asra huffed and pouted, leaning back in his chair. "What do you do in yours?" he asked casually.

Julian looked away and blushed all over again. "I'm with her," he confessed. "I'm happy for a moment. And you?"

"I smash Lucio's head on the sidewalk."

Julian broke into a little smile. "Yeah, makes sense, since you've got everything you want."

Silence fell, thick and bitter.

"I don't have everything I want," Asra breathed.

"You've got her."

He grunted with annoyance and raised his gaze to Julian, eyes narrowed and shining with tears. "Can you stop already? No, I don't have her, she doesn't want to be with me, she doesn't love me!"

"Don't say that! She does!"

"Oh Ilya…" he groaned and rolled his eyes. "Well," he sighed heavily. "If she does, it's not enough to be happy with me."

"It's not your fault…"

"Great. Thanks. That fixes it all." He downed his tea, put the cup away loudly and stood up. "I'll go now."

Julian jumped to his feet, eyes wide. "What? Why?"

"I'm not needed here." He went out to the bedroom.

Julian followed him. "Are you going to leave her like this?"

"She'll be fine." He grabbed one of his coates from the wardrobe. "Her lover is a doctor."

"Asra…"

"Save it." He put the coat on and picked his bag up from the floor. "She's got you now. I'm not necessary here anymore." He went out and walked swiftly down the stairs, not looking back.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Julian asked, on a brink of panic, chasing him down and through the empty shop. "She still needs you!"

"Well, you'll have to do."

"Asra, stop!" He grabbed his arm and turned him to face him. "Stay!"

Asra pushed him away. "Why would I? She's made her choice!"

"She's made _no_ choice! She's been tricked and violated! It's you who chooses not to see this!"

"Oh my, what a shame! So sorry I'm not a saint like you!" He shrugged and came up to the door.

"Asra, please…"

He stopped with his hand on the knob. "I'm just wondering if you'd be so understanding and merciful if you were in my place."

Julian paused, his mouth agape. "You utter idiot!" he hissed. "I _am_ in your place! I've been in this hell for years!"

"Yeah, well, so you see - I just need practice!" Asra chuckled. "Great. I'll let you know how I'm doing in a few years then. Bye."

"Asra, wait." He caught his hand and pulled it off of the knob.

Asra snapped it away from him. "Let go, Ilya!"

"You know she didn't do anything bad."

"Ilya, shut up!" He pushed him again, and Julian swayed but grabbed his shoulders.

He held him tightly, made him look at him, not scared of his furious glare. "She would never cheat on you! _I_ would never do this to you. She would never, Asra, and you know it! You know it. She's been deceived. It's not her fault. It's not your fault."

Asra struggled against his grip. "It's nobody's fault!" he yelled, thrashing and squirming like a cat, his eyes narrowed, liquid, tears threatening to spill. "Nobody's guilty! Not her! Not even you! Fuck!" He struck Julian in the chest with both fists. "I can't blame even _you_!"

Julian's breath caught from the punch and he at last let go of him, and Asra weaved in his eagerness to move away.

"This must be the nicest thing you've ever said about me," Julian muttered, massaging his breastbone.

"Shut up! I hate you!"

"I know."

"I hate her!"

"No, you don't."

"I do!"

"No."

"But I wish I did!" Asra burst and broke. His voice hitched and tears streamed freely down his face. "I still… I can't hate her! But I want to!"

Without a word, Julian grabbed him again and pulled into a hug, and Asra burst with tears, sobbing and shaking.

"It hurts so much, Ilya! If I could blame somebody- If I could hate her- Maybe it would hurt less…"

Julian didn't answer, only held him tighter, hiding his own contorted face in his hair while Asra cried, trembled, his breath catching, but less and less with every passing minute.

"I can't take it again, Ilya," he choked out. "I can't, I won't, I don't want to, no, it's too much…"

"No, Asra, hey..." He drew away to look at him. "Hey, it's going to be alright. You'll be alright. Like you always are."

Asra sniffled and pulled Julian by the shirt to press his forehead back to his chest, shaking his head. "No, no, not again, I won't take more, please, no…"

Julian squeezed his shoulders. "You will take it. And you'll be fine. She… She loves you," he whispered into his hair. "She loves you so dearly, so much stronger than she loves me. She'll never stop loving you. You'll be fine, both of you, you'll see."

Asra stayed in his arms for a while longer. Then, he sniffled and pulled away gently. He wiped his face with a sleeve. "How come you're so optimistic all of the sudden?"

Julian wondered, taken aback slightly. The last thing he'd say about himself was _optimistic_. "I don't know. I guess… Nothing lasts forever. Not joy, but neither does pain."

Asra nodded, brows raised. "When did yours pass?"

"It didn't."

"So where these wise words come from?"

Julian looked away. Blush crept up his cheeks. "She told me she loves me," he confessed, his voice no more than a whisper. He peeked back at Asra, not sure how he'd react. "It's more than I have ever imagined to hear from her."

Asra held his gaze, his eyes puffy and still a little wet, but otherwise saying nothing. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder. "Take care of her," he said, then turned away and walked out.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed the instruction for a homemade transfusion from Mad Max: Fury Road, I'm so sorry!


	6. Chapter 6

Julian stared at the door for a long time after it closed behind Asra.

He left him. He left him all alone in this empty shop, in the middle of the mess, with [y/n] recovering upstairs. Sure, he wanted her and had dreamt of having her just to himself for years but now, instead of being happy, he felt lost like an abandoned child, vulnerable and helpless. His shirt (probably Asra's), damp with also Asra's tears, clung to his chest, getting cold, and shame and fear kept rushing through his veins, making him sick.

But it wasn't about him. He got a hold of himself. He took a few breaths, wiped his wet eyes and straightened his borrowed clothes, then returned upstairs to check on [y/n]. He tiptoed into the bedroom and closed the door as quietly as he could.

It didn't matter since she was already awake.

He turned towards the bed and his eyes met hers from where she was lying. He tensed, his stomach up in his throat.

"He left," she stated, not asked, her voice small.

Julian hesitated. "I'm so sorry."

She nodded. She was silent for a second, then her face crumpled and she sobbed.

Julian's heart almost lept out from his chest. He panicked, he didn't know what to do, how to behave. But he remembered what she said and what Asra told him - he came up to the bed, sat on the edge and brushed her hair away from her face and rubbed her back.

"Hush, my dearest," he cooed. "Don't cry, it's alright. He'll be back, I promise."

She shook her head. "Nothing is alright! He won'tbe back!" she whimpered, then groaned and clutched to her stomach.

"What is it? Does it hurt?" Julian straightened up in alarm and moved the blanket off of her without thinking.

Redness bloomed between her legs and leaked on the sheets.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath.

"It's nothing," [y/n] tried to calm him down. "It was just a cramp. I'm fine now."

"I guess some bleeding and contractions are still possible," he murmured. "Please, wait here. Don't move too much."

He stood up and went to the bathroom. Inside, the reek of blood and alcohol hit him like a punch in the face. He'd already forgotten about the mess in here… He stepped over the puddle and opened a cabinet in search of clean towels. He grabbed a couple and rushed back to [y/n].

"Here, maybe you'd like to... use it."

She took one from him, and he focused on unfolding the other while she put it between her legs. "Would you…?" she asked awkwardly, looking at the stain beneath her.

"Yes, of course. Just carefully."

She raised her hips and he spread the towel underneath her. She fell back on the bed with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, we should've do this at first…" he mumbled awkwardly, blushing all over. He covered her gently with the blanket.

"Don't worry. Doesn't matter," she murmured, her eyes falling shut, her body relaxing.

He watched her for a moment before he scolded himself for staring and made a move to stand up.

But [y/n] caught his hand. He looked into her tired, blurry eyes. "Will you stay?" she asked, the tears still there in her voice.

"Of course!" he breathed, taking her hand in both his. Led by pure affection, he brought it to his lips. "I will. Just rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

She hummed and her eyes closed again. Soon, she was breathing slow and deep. Julian sat by her a little longer, holding her hand, stroking it with his thumb, amazed that he was actually doing this. Her hand seemed so small and fragile in his, and it was warm and soft and delicate…

Nothing like the [y/n]'s from the dream.

He bent down and pressed another kiss to her knuckles, long and loving, just because he could. He put it down reluctantly and stood up.

Now what?

His first, default thought was to flee - to get drunk senseless and sleep, then repeat. But no, he couldn't, not anymore. At last, he was responsible for someone worth caring for.

He changed into his dirty clothes and occupied himself with removing the remains of the almost tragedy from the bathroom. He emptied the bath, threw out the candles and flowers, and washed the floor paying special attention to the magic circle, scrubbing it furiously as if it personally offended him.

Because it kind of did.

A few hours later, he was done. He only made sure that [y/n] was still fast asleep, then washed and changed again. He was exhausted, his hands and knees and back were killing him but he was also free from intrusive thoughts and craving to drink. Somehow, it was fine. It felt like a beginning of something good.

He slipped out of the bathroom. [y/n] was still asleep. To kill more time and have something to focus on, he went to the kitchen to prepare some food for her when she wakes up. He found a half of slightly stale bread, some butter and fruit, and a bowl of spicy rice pudding. It wasn't stored in chill but seemed fine, so it probably was charmed.

Julian pushed the bowl away with a grimace. He would not eat magic. He helped himself to some bread and an apple and rests of cold tea. He ate and then, closed his eyes for just a minute. Before he knew it, he nodded off with his head on the table.

***

The sun was setting, covering the kitchen with shadows, when a faint calling of his name woke him up. He needed a moment to remember where and when he was. When he did, he leapt to his feet.

"I'm here! I'm here, [y/n], I'm sorry." He got to the bed, sat on the edge and took her waiting hand in his. He pulled it to his mouth and kissed her palm. He was getting used to it. "I'm here, my darling."

To feel her thumb caress his cheek was incredible. A divine delight.

"Darling?" she repeated softly.

Julian blushed all over and put her hand down. He cleared his throat nervously. "How are you?"

"Tired."

"I'll give you something to eat." He made a move to stand up but she tightened her grip on him.

"No, thank you. Stay. I'm fine."

"You must eat," he insisted, although her request and gesture pleased him so much that he could soar. "You need strength."

"I'm not hungry."

Julian suppressed a sigh at her stubbornness. A thought popped into his mind, an idea, truly innocent though probably a bit inappropriate in those circumstances. But he felt lucky and risked a smile as charming as he dared. "Please. For me?"

[y/n]'s eyes went wide at first. She looked up, then to the side - not really an eye roll. A smile forced its way on her lips. "Alright."

He kissed her hand again to thank her, to congratulate himself and stop the urge from kissing her beautiful mouth. "I found some magic rice pudding," he offered.

" _Magic_ pudding?" she chuckled, and Julian's heart swell with warmth he hadn't felt in forever. It almost scared him. He wasn't used to such pleasant sensations. "It's just charmed fresh."

"I'll bring you some."

He helped her sit up and while she ate, since she asked, he briefed her what happened when they found her in the bathtub. Next, to break the awkward silence, he told her about blood types. She listened to him with interest shining in her eyes. Or amusement. Or maybe it was fever? Anyway, before he even got to the dangers of mixing the types, she was asleep again. He took the bowl from her hands and gently lowered her on the pillows. He put the back of his hand on her forehead, then cheek.

No, she wasn't feverish.

And he was tired, too.

Not sure what to do with himself, not wanting to invite himself into her bed nor leave her side, he slid to the floor and made himself more or less comfortable with his arms on the mattress and his head on them. He again dared cover her lovely, little hand with his, marvelling at how good it felt to hold it and that she didn't mind him kissing it over and over again. He watched her relaxed face, listened to her deep, calm breaths. Soon, his eyes fell closed. With a hazy thought that it must had been the first time in months that he was sober at this hour, he was asleep. 

***

A soft squeak of the wardrobe door, a susurration of materials, tiny thumps of hitting the ground…

The sun was high in the sky when Julian was roused by the sounds. He sucked in a long breath and blinked. He found himself with his head on the mattress, [y/n]'s (sound asleep) hand still in his. He straightened up with a barely suppressed groan at his neck and back cracking and popping back into place. He rubbed his tensed nape, grimacing, then looked towards the noises.

Asra was there dispassionately loading his clothes into a bag. He met Julian's shocked gaze. He put a finger to his lips.

"Asra…?" Julian uttered huskily.

Asra rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Hush!" he hissed at him. He squeezed a couple more piles into the bag, closed it and heaved up. He nodded at Julian to follow him outside.

Julian pushed himself up, stretching his cramped legs, then joined him on the stairs. "Are you leaving already? What's going on?"

"I came for my things, not for breakfast," he answered coldly.

"Oh." Julian's stomach dropped. So that was it - he really gave up on her.

Guilt was evident on Julian's face, making Asra more uncomfortable than he already was. "I'll be back for the rest," he announced and immediately made his way to the door.

Julian only nodded, didn't even chase him this time. For a second though, he wanted to offer him help in packing but decided against it. It would sound wrong.

Asra stopped with a hand on the knob. "How is she?"

"Better," Julian breathed through his clenched throat. "She's getting better."

"Good."

"But I'm sure she'd like to see you."

Asra shook his head. "I just wanted to make sure she's fine."

"She is."

"Then I leave her in good hands."

"Asra…"

"Bye, Ilya."

And then, he was gone, _leaving_ her in Julian's hands. Like a thing or pet.

Julian groaned and sat on the stairs heavily, ran his fingers through his hair, viciously pulling on it. Tears prickled his eyes.

It wasn't how it should be. It wasn't what he wished for. Everything went so horribly wrong! Yes, he loved her, yes - he wanted her, but above all he wanted her safe and happy, no matter his drunken prayers. So now, when she had been _left_ for him, how was he supposed to take care of her? He could make her safe, that was for sure. As a doctor, he could heal her body, relieve the pain, stop the bleeding. But as a friend or... a lover, how was he supposed to heal her mind and heart? How was he supposed to make her feel loved and cherished and supported when he himself was a wreck of a man with his own heart and soul in shreds?

That wasn't how he wanted it. Not what he wanted for her. If he were given a choice, right here and now, he would run away and disappear from her life, let her forget him and find happiness with a more suitable partner. He himself certainly wasn't good enough. He'd only harm her more.

The problem was that suitable partner had just _left_ her for - oh sweet lord, have mercy... - _Julian_ to take over.

He had no choice. He had to stay.

"Julian?" Her soft voice behind his back made him start. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" he repeated dumbly, scrambling to his feet. "I mean, what's wrong? Why are you out of bed?"

She was standing there, a hand on the doorframe, half leaning on it and half hiding behind it, probably to conceal the red stain on her bathrobe. Her hair was tousled and a little unfresh, her face still a tad too pale and eyes sad and weary. But she still tried to smile at him. "I'm fine, I just… thought I heard you here."

"Yes, sorry, sorry." He shifted his weight awkwardly and rubbed his hands over his trousers. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't. I've slept enough."

Julian nodded, peeked at her. She flashed him a shy, little smile, and he tried to reciprocate it. And what now? Silence lingered, becoming way too long to be comfortable. Before he came up with what to say or do next, she spoke.

"He was here." It wasn't a question.

Julian's heart fell. His cheeks burnt with shame. "I was going to tell you."

She snorted softly. " _Please_. He didn't even bother to close the wardrobe. I deduced this much."

"I'm so sorry."

She shook her head, still smiling, though her eyes watered. She blinked rapidly. "It was going to happen, sooner or later." She shrugged, the corners of her lips trembling. "Maybe it's for the best." She struggled to sound light.

She didn't really succeed.

Julian felt his heart shrink and twist with pain. His torment seemed like a minor nuesance when compared to seeing her cry.

Instinctively, he took a step towards her with his hand oustratched, and stopped mid movement, not to scare her or impose on her, his own fears of hurting her himself still reverberating in his mind. But it was him who ended up scared and shocked when she closed the distance between them, took his hand and hugged her cheek to his chest. He was afraid she'd feel him shake and hear his heart hammer. And, oh, he shouldn't, he really, really shouldn't get more used to this - he thought as he squeezed her hand in his. He shouldn't make her feel comfortable with him - he told himself, putting his arm around her shoulders to hug her closer. He shouldn't let himself enjoy the way she embraced his waist and sighed and relaxed into him. He shouldn't kiss the top of her head nor press his cheek into her hair or rub her back.

He shouldn't love her so much.

He shouldn't let himself hope. There was no hope. He'd just hurt her.

He was equally disappointed and relieved when she drew away.

She wiped her eyes with an embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry…" she mumbled. "Um… I'd love to take a bath, you know."

Julian almost tripped over his own feet in the haste to draw her a bath. In the meantime, she sat on the bed and ate as he told her to, this time without objections. He asked her, cheeks flaming, not to lock the door, and she agreed, but he was pacing nevertheless, scared that something might happen to her, that she might slip or trip or faint and drown and he wouldn't help her on time.

But some time later, she reemerged, safe and sound, looking a little healthier with her hair clean and in fresh clothes, with a sweet blush on her cheeks and that shy smile on her rosy lips.

Julian swallowed hard. How could she be so beautiful…?

"I got tired again…" she admitted sheepishly.

She went to bed then. She took a few hours nap and Julian found himself napping with her, again sitting on the floor, clinging to her hand.

He woke up before she caught him.

Later, she helped him fix some dinner, though he objected. At least, he managed to convince her to sit at the table to carve vegetables.

"I'm fine," she persisted. "I'm just doing it for you."

Julian was glad his was with his back to her when she said it. He wasn't sure if he kept the storm of contradicting emotions she provoked away from his face.

They were mostly silent throught the meal. They only exchanged a couple of questions about each other's wellbeing and thoughts on the food, otherwise too shy and nervous to chat. After, the sky started to darken and [y/n]'s eyed got heavy again. Julian led her to bed, tucked her in, overcame an urge to kiss her and was about to stand up when she caught his hand.

"You can lie down next to me, you know," she breathed sleepily. "You don't have to sit on the floor everytime."

Julian flushed hotly and gazed away, utterly embarrassed. He managed to smile. "I'm good. Don't worry about me."

"You can't possibly be comfortable," she murmured, her eyes already closed.

This time, he smiled for real. _She was an angel…_ Since he knew he wouldn't accept her invitation, at least he let himself lean over her and press his lips to her temple.

[y/n] hummed and squeezed his hand gently. "Thank you," she mumbled. "You're good."

Julian waited for her breath to slow down, then slipped out from her grip.

_No, he wasn't good._

He cried silently on the floor, at her feet, torn and scared and yearning, wishing he were good. Good enough.

He fell asleep like twice before, only this time he didn't dare hold her hand.

***

On the next morning though, he woke up, aching all over of course, but also cheerful enough to let himself hope. He freshened up in the bathroom and after having made sure [y/n] was asleep and going to remain so for a while longer, he sneaked out to do some shopping. He even gave in to a temptation and bought [y/n] flowers.

When he came back, she was still in bed, this precious angel. He went to the kitchen then, and started to prepare breakfast.

She, at last, greeted him with her hand on his elbow, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, making him beam and his heart flutter.

"Coffee?" she asked, nodding towards a pot.

"Yes, I bought some. When you were asleep. Sorry, I came out only for a minute."

She squeezed his bicep. "That's alright, don't apologise. You can come and go as you wish."

"I'm still a little afraid to leave you alone," he confessed, covering her hand with his.

"I'm fine." She entwined their fingers. "I really am. And I don't bleed anymore."

"That's good. That's the most important." He gazed down at her and caught her smiling eyes. Heat shot to his face. "Um… Would you like some? I'm just afraid there's no- "

"We've got milk." She pointed to the glass bottle by the window.

He winced. "Magic milk."

"A simple freshness charm!" she chuckled.

"If you say so." He poured her a cup. "Sugar?"

"Just milk please." He poured the magic milk into her coffee. "Thank you. I mean it, Julian." She looked up at him intently and took his hand. "Thank you for taking care of me. For staying. You didn't have to."

Julian shook his head for so long and in so many different ways that he made her laugh again. Oh, the sweetest sound… "Of course I stayed. For you… Of course. Sorry."

"Hey," she cooed, putting the other hand on his chest. "Thank you."

Julian dared cover her hand with his. "Of course, my darling…" he breathed, truly lost for words. He brought it to his mouth then, and kissed it with reverence.

He looked down at her and she looked up at him, their eyes liquid, tinted with sadness but also honest and ardent with affection and unspoken desire. Her gaze was first to dart to his lips, then his did the same, and when she craned her neck just an inch up, he leaned in.

Julian sucked in a breath through his nose when their lips pressed against each other. He couldn't believe it was actually happening. She was closer to him than he'd ever dared to hope. He was kissing her, and her lips were so, so soft, so warm, so good he could hardly comprehend it. It felt nothing like his images, absolutely _nothing_ like that cursed dream. And when with a sigh she parted her sweet lips and captured his, when her other hand moved to his cheek, he melted. He kissed her back, touched her waist so fearfully, not to scare her, not to offend her. But she didn't recoil. She hummed softly and kissed him again, a little harder, her mouth, her body being his anchor because his head and whole world were spinning. She smelled like flowers, like roses, she was everything he'd ever wanted and she was _kissing_ him.

A rustle of materials made them break the kiss and turn towards the door just in time to see a flash of blue and purple coat disappear.

"Asra!" [y/n] called and pushed herself away from Julian. "Wait! I'm sorry!"

Julian stayed, listened to her rush downstairs and call for Asra. He could still feel the warmth and pressure of her lips on his as he heard her apologise for it over and over again. Pain pierced his chest. Some tears rolled down his cheeks. His breath hitched once, twice… And that was it. To the sound of their soft, unintelligible whispers, the tension in him reached its breaking point and subsided until there was not even a trace of it in him. As if he'd never been sad, angry or hurt. As if he'd never loved nor hated or longed. As if he'd never felt at all. Perfect, absolute peace washed over him and remained, leaving his eyes dry, heart light and mind clear and made up.

He expected this moment to happen sooner or later, hoped for it but never imagined it like this. He anticipated a crescendo of screams and tears, and hair pulling, and grinding of teeth… But this was better. He didn't think he'd ever felt like this before and it was good. Amazing. He enjoyed the calmness and clarity.

[y/n] returned after a couple of minutes, her eyes red and puffy, cheeks wet. She sat at the table and slumped with her head in her hands.

Julian observed her and marveled at how it provoked no emotions in him.

Maybe but one.

"Do you think" he asked because he wasn't sure how to deal with that shred of hope lingering in his heart. "it will be good ever again?"

She rose her watery eyes to him, her beautiful face still flushed and contracted with despair. She took a deep, shaky breath. "I don't know," she murmured, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Right now," She sniffled. "it's difficult for me to imagine that it would be."

He nodded. This was all he needed to know. He found himself walking to the stairs.

"Where are you going?" [y/n] whined, making him stop.

He looked at her, barely recognising that it was fear in her eyes. "I need to go to my place," he said. He even managed to smile softly, reassuringly. "Just for a minute."

[y/n] hesitated but nodded. "Okay."

He didn't say anything else. He didn't want to lie to her. So, he just put a hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "I love you," he whispered into her hair, breathed her lovely scent one more time, then left.

He walked through the streets, amazed at how the peace wasn't leaving him; at how certain he was of his future, how calm he was about it. Because for the first time in months, in years even, he knew precisely what he'd do and what would happen. And he really needed only a couple of minutes for it.

It even made him happy.


	7. Chapter 7

[y/n] woke up to the morning light shining in her eyes and in an empty bed. To the latter she was starting to get used to. She stretched carefully, minding her still sensitive womb, and rolled to the side - to find it empty, too.

Fear pierced her chest before small sounds of bustling in the kitchen got to her, and she smiled to herself.

Sweet, silly Julian. Such a gentleman that he even refused to sleep in bed with her and taught her to find him napping on the floor with his head in his arms on the mattress, holding her hand. He'd always get up before her and pretend that it never happened but she knew. She'd wake up a couple of times a night to find the poor man like this. She would brush his hair away from his face, so relaxed and innocent like never during the day. So peaceful... She'd stroke his cheek, his forehead, his nose, and marvel at how soft and warm his skin was.

How could she fall for the impostor in her dream?, she'd wonder. That thing was nothing like Julian, wasn't even half as beautiful as he was.

She'd ran her fingers through the wild, auburn curls of his as if to apologise for the troubles she had caused him, for all the pain and misery, to soothe his nerves. He would sigh so prettily then and stir in his sleep, in that ungodly half-sitting position, which could not be comfortable, that silly, good man. She would move a little bit closer to him, squeeze his hand in hers to make sure it would not slip out, and fall back asleep, feeling kind of calm for the first time in months.

She sat and stood up slowly, watching out for cramps, and when none came, she went to the kitchen. She tried to walk a little bit louder than she usually did in order not to scare him. He was so fidgety lately. But he still didn't notice her when she walked in - he was leaning over the counter, carving some fruit and sipping from a cup every now and then.

She greeted him with her hand on his elbow, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. He didn't start this time and it made her incredibly happy. It seemed like a progress.

"Coffee?" she asked, nodding towards a pot.

"Yes, I bought some. When you were asleep. Sorry, I came out only for a minute."

She squeezed his bicep reassuringly. He apologised a lot as if anything what happened were his fault. _Sweet, pure Julian…_ He was too good for her and way too harsh for himself. "That's alright, don't apologise. You can come and go as you wish."

"I'm still a little afraid to leave you alone," he confessed, covering her hand with his.

"I'm fine." She entwined their fingers, and a blissful smile bloomed on her lips. It just felt so good to be finally able to touch him and to be touched back. She was getting addicted to it and wanted more and more with every innocent hug and kiss. She looked up at Julian, at his handsome face. Because she finally could. "I really am. And I don't bleed anymore."

"That's good. That's the most important." He gazed down at her and eyes their eyes locked. He looked away after a second, blushing so sweetly. "Um… Would you like some? I'm just afraid there's no- "

"We've got milk." She pointed to the glass bottle by the window.

And grimaced.

No, not _we_ . Not anymore. _She's_ got milk.

[y/n] leaned on Julian's shoulder, glad he didn't see her face. Pain and sadness swept over her like winter wind, freezing her to the bone and filling her eyes with tears.

But then, he winced. "Magic milk," he mumbled it like a curse.

Her eyes went wide and she couldn't help but chuckle. "A simple freshness charm!"

"If you say so." He poured her a cup. "Sugar?"

"Just milk please." He poured the magic milk into her coffee. "Thank you. I mean it, Julian." She looked up at him intently and took his hand. "Thank you for taking care of me. For staying. You didn't have to."

She didn't know how to put it better. How does one thanks for saving their life? Words didn't seem to be enough here.

Julian shook his head for so long and in so many different ways that he made her laugh again. He was so awkward sometimes. It was adorable. He was adorable. He was amazing. 

"Of course I stayed. For you… Of course. Sorry."

Again this. "Hey," she cooed, putting the other hand on his chest. She could feel his heart pound nervously. She wished she could soothe it. "Thank you."

Julian covered her hand with his. It was so large on hers, the palm warm and calloused, and so pleasant to touch. "Of course, my darling…" he breathed, making her cheeks heat up and chest swell with warmth. He brought it to his mouth then, and kissed it, and [y/n]'s face for a second contorted with something painfully delicious.

He looked down at her with those beautiful mismatched eyes, and she looked up at him, her heart trembling, their eyes liquid, tinted with sadness but also honest and ardent with affection and unspoken desire. Her gaze was first to dart to his lips, then his did the same, and when she dared and craned her neck, he leaned in, meeting her halfway.

The world blurred around [y/n] when their lips pressed against each other. She could hardly believe it was actually happening. They were so close she could feel the trembling heat of his body, the warmth of his breath on her skin, and his lips were bitter from the coffee, and soft, and warm, and it felt so good to kiss them she couldn't get enough once they started. It felt nothing like her images, absolutely _nothing_ like that cursed dream. With a delighted sigh, she parted her lips and captured his, her hand moved to his cheek, to caress it, yearning to shower him with affection already but holding back in fear it would be too much too early. But he kissed her back and his hand found her waist, touched it so gently, making [y/n] melt and sing within. A soft hum escaped her throat and she kissed him again, a little bolder, his mouth, his pleasure being her whole world. She loved him and wanted him to know it and the least she could do was to kiss him like she meant it.

A rustle of materials made them break the kiss and turn towards the door just in time to see a flash of blue and purple coat disappear.

Cold fear washed over [y/n]. "Asra!" Without thinking, she ran after him. "Wait! I'm sorry!"

She chased him down the stairs, despair and guilt breaking her heart. She had hurt Asra so much already. Why did she have to harm him again? Why did he have to see this? Why did she have to…? Why couldn't she wait?!

"Asra, please! I'm so sorry! Please, please, forgive me, please…!"

Right at the exit, when she thought he would just leave and shut the door in her face, he stopped. He turned to her. She was surprised to see him cry.

It hurt so much more than if he was angry.

"I'm sorry, Asra, so sorry…"

"No, please, my heart, hush," he choked out, so softly, so gently, taking her shaking hands in his and squeezing them dearly. "Don't apologise, please. I am sorry. I should have seen it, should've listened to you… I am sorry I left you with your troubles."

She shook her head, breathing hard, feeling confused. "Asra, if I knew… I swear I would never hurt you on purpose…"

"Hush, my dear, I know. I know you wouldn't. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't hurt me."

"But I did! But I didn't want to!"

"No, sweetie, hush." He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. "Don't cry, please. It's okay. I don't blame you, I really don't. I can't blame you for a change of heart."

[y/n] burst with another wave of tears, clinging to him, feeling his own tears on her ear and neck. "I'm sorry! I tried…! I tried to be good to you."

"But you were!" He drew away and took her face in his hands, his eyes filled with so much pain and love. "You are! You're good and kind and caring… You're my angel, nothing changed here. And I will always love you, no matter who you choose to be with."

She blinked, utterly lost, not knowing what to think or feel. "I'm so sorry it went like this," she mumbled nevertheless.

He smiled - sadly but sincerely. "So it did… But I didn't give you half of my heart to own you. I just wanted you to be alive and happy. And I'm happy I could be with you, even if it was so short."

[y/n]'s chin crumpled and her lips trembled and eyes filled and overflowed with tears. She just hugged him again and he hugged her back so hard it hurt.

"I'm leaving today," he said after a moment. She pulled away from him, panic rushing through her veins. "I'm sorry but I need to. And I'll be back, I promise!" he added, seeing the terrified look in her eyes. "I just need some air, some time to move on. I'll be back before you know it, you'll see."

She blinked rapidly, new tears blurring her eyes. She wiped away the ones that rolled down her face and took a deep, shaky breath. She nodded. "Be safe," she breathed, her voice choked. "I'll miss you."

He smiled again and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Take care of each other, Ilya and you," he whispered against her skin. "Help each other heal. You deserve to be happy."

She nodded, her face contorting with pain, more tears streaming down and dripping of her chin.

He wiped her cheeks with his fingers, cupped them, made her look at him. "Promise me you'll be good to each other."

She nodded fervently. "I promise."

He beamed and took a step back. He squeezed her hands one last time before he left.

[y/n] stood there, rooted to the spot, her body unresponsive. She tried to comprehend what just had happened and what she felt and _could_ feel from now on. That was when she remembered about poor Julian left so crudely upstairs.

She returned to the kitchen. Julian didn't move an inch and stared at the floor. He must had been no less confused than she. And she was going to tell him what happened right when she could catch her breath again. She sat heavily at the table and slumped with her head in her hands, her heart pounding in her ears and head spinning, still weak after her little accident.

"Do you think" Julian asked suddenly. "it will be good ever again?"

She rose her eyes to him, stang with unease. There was something off about his blank face and voice. His tone was so casual as if he were asking about the weather. And it was _Julian_ after all - always wearing his heart on his sleeve.

But she guessed each of them had the right to be a little off these days.

She took a deep breath, making sure her voice wouldn't break. "I don't know," she murmured honestly, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. She was still struggling to figure out what to think and feel after what Asra told her. "Right now," She sniffled. "it's difficult for me to imagine that it would be."

He nodded, nothing more. And after a second, he marched towards the door.

"Where are you going?" [y/n] whined in alarm, making him stop.

He looked at her, his eyes terrifyingly empty as if he didn't recognise her. "I need to go to my place," he said stiffly, then plastered a smile to his face. "Just for a minute."

[y/n] hesitated, doubts and fear storming in her. But she nodded. "Okay."

He didn't say anything else. He just put a hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head, and normally it would please her. Now however, something about it made her want to cringe.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, sounding sincere but still so strangely detached it gave [y/n] chills.

It sounded like a goodbye.

She watched him go, then rushed to the window to see him walk down the street. She wondered feverishly what was wrong, what did she do or said or what did he hear that disturbed him so much. For a second, she even thought it wasn't real Julian but the incubus in his skin again.

But no. She could tell the difference now. It was him but for some reason very much upset.

The more she thought about it, the worse ideas churned in her mind. Sensations of unnamed source took over her step by step. Ice-cold fear poisoned her stomach, making her sick, then blood, then heart, making it pound painfully, then head, impending clear thought. The unease steadily grew stronger, as if the further Julian went, the more scared she was for him.

She pushed away the ridiculous idea and tried to calm herself, tried to breathe and think reasonably.

He just went out. He could - she's just told him so. And he hasn't left her side for two days and probably wanted a moment of solitude, probably wanted to change from the borrowed clothes and maybe have a nap in his own bed. Nothing wrong about that. Absolutely nothing. He deserved to have a rest.

She wanted to laugh at herself but it went out more like a whimper. She wanted to have a sip of her coffee to soothe her clenched throat but her hands were shaking so bad she could hardly bring the cup to her lips. She wanted to sit down then, but for a second she completely forgot about her intent and almost passed by the table on her way to the door, an invisible force urging her out. She huffed, annoyed and even more afraid, and turned around and grabbed a chair but the moment the back of her thighs touched the seat, she sprung up and her restless feet again led her towards the stairs.

Something bad was about to happen and she couldn't deny it any longer.

She just put on her shoes before she burst outside, without a coat or even locking up the shop. She sprinted towards the clinic, to Julian's flat, without thinking, without questions - she just knew he'd be there, she would get there with her eyes closed. And she almost had to given the tears blurring her view, the cold air stinging her eyes and flogging her face and hurting her lungs as she fought for breath. Very soon, also her head was light and spinning, her body still so weak after the blood loss. Her legs numbed with pain and strain, she barely felt the sidewalk under her feet. But she kept running, fueled by something beyond her exhaustion or even her will. At one point, she realised she had no idea where she was or how far she went, not until the silhouette of that familiar building rose in front of her. She dashed to the back door and didn't bother knocking - it was open anyway.

The moment she burst inside, there was a heavy _thud!_ up in the living room. It only made her run faster up the stairs.

What she found there knocked that little of air she had in her chest.

Julian was swaying gently in the air, suspended by the neck on a thick rope attached to a hook in the ceiling. His arms and legs were quaking. His back was to her, so she couldn't see and only hear him choke.

She opened her mouth but she had no air to scream. She leapt to the chair toppled over, picked it up and climbed on it and reached for the rope.

It snapped under her fingertips.

Julian collapsed on the floor, heavy and limp, face livid, mouth agape, eyes closed. [y/n] fell to her knees next to him, panting, sobbing, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and grabbed the noose - it unwound under her touch.

But Julian didn't take a breath.

"No!" she wailed. She palmed his face, still hot and flushed; his neck and chest, pulse barely there. "No!" Her thoughts rushed disorderly. What would Julian do? What would Asra do? What should she do?!

She cried out in fear and frustration, and put her hands on his chest and cheek, mustering her magic, hoping to just will him to breathe.

"Please don't do this, please don't leave me," she chanted, her voice tiny, high, choked by tears dripping on his neck. "Please, I love you, I'm sorry, please, please…"

She barely felt a tug on the very core of her soul or how her palms tingled nor the little flash of light that burst underneath them, but she gasped when Julian did. His eyes shot open, he sucked in a breath, then started to cough violently, wincing in pain.

[y/n]'s mouth fell open and she screamed and sobbed out loud with overwhelming relief. She bent in half and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and cried with her head on his convulsing chest. When she felt his hands on her sides, heard her name form on his lips, she rose, her hands moving to cradle his face, to touch his reddened cheeks, to wipe the tears - his or hers - from them, from his chin and temples.

"I'm here, I'm here!" she murmured, searching his eyes. "I've got you, Julian, my sweetheart, I do. It's okay now, it's okay. It will be good, it _will_! I promise you this, my love, I promise, I promise…"

She cooed to him - to calm both him and herself. She did so for a while longer even after he had passed out in her arms, breathing deep and slow. Then, she lied down with her head on his shoulder and let herself rest.

***

Julian woke up to a fire crackling softly, its amber light flickering into his eyes and warmth at his side.

And a different warmth at his other side, and a pleasant weight in his hand.

He felt the hard floor underneath him and something soft under his head. But with consciousness came also pain spreading from the very top of his head down. His spine, muscles on his back and chest and every tendon in his neck were pulled and burnt and screamed. Julian groaned by reflex and it instantly turned into a dry cough, clenching his sore throat and hurting his back and chest and just making everything worse.

[y/n] leaned over him from where she was sitting on the floor. She squeezed his hand tight in hers and with the other, gently rubbed his breastbone. "Shhh," she cooed. "Shh, just breathe, just breathe. It's alright, breathe."

Maybe it was her touch, maybe her voice or magic, but he calmed down quickly, coughing subsided, and he could inhale and exhale slowly, even though it felt like breathing with broken glass.

Nevermind it, though. He deserved it.

But then, her fingers were caressing his throat with feather-light touches, and the discomfort eased.

"Yes, good, my sweet heart, good," she murmured. "Everything's going to be fine, I promise."

When his eyes stopped to water, he blinked and looked at her face over him.

It was incredible how beautiful she was.

But she was also unhealthily pale again, her lovely eyes wet and bloodshot. She looked so very tired.

He raised his hand to her cheek, and his heart mended a tad when she cupped it with hers and nuzzled it. Then, it broke all over again at seeing her face contort and tears spill from under her squeezed eyes.

"You…" he rasped and instinctively tried to clear his throat. He barely stopped another coughing fit. "You shouldn't waste your magic on me."

She shook her head, frowning. "It wasn't a waste."

He looked into her, into her eyes trembling with tears, so full of pain but of something else too, something warm and soft, and he had to look away, feeling torn, torn. Should he thank her - for saving him, so he could cause her more heartache? Should he apologise for wanting to save her from himself? To remove himself from her and Asra's life?

Should he apologise for not wanting to suffer so much anymore?

"Did you really have to try to kill yourself" she spoke when he wouldn't. "to see if I care about you?"

He stubbornly stared away when his face twisted with pain and shame. He stayed like this when she called him softly. But he was helpless against her fingertips on his chin pulling him towards her.

"Look at me, please, Julian," she asked, her voice choked.

He did, even though it hurt.

She cocked her head, then bit her lip, seeming embarrassed. "I thought you want me."

This was his greatest failure.

"I do!" He wanted to sound like he meant it, would scream it into the heavens, but a whisper had to do for now. He tried to raise to her but pain held him down. "I do, I love you so much! I waited my whole life for you! I just… I thought… when you ran to him…" his voice broke both with tears and strain. He let out a shaky sigh and looked back into her questioning eyes. "I couldn't bear losing you, not a moment after I was finally allowed to kiss you."

Her face fell and more tears rolled down her too pale cheeks, and Julian dreaded he harmed her again. But then, she was leaning in; then, her sweet lips were on his, and she was kissing him, oh kissing, kissing…

Julian's eyes squeezed shut, brows knit together, throat clenched painfully and his hands shot to her shoulders and held her for dear life because it hurt. Because her every kiss was a blessing, every gentle brush of her fingers on his cheek was a delight, and it _hurt_. Like bones mending, like wounds closing. It hurt so fucking much to heal, to have the joy of being loved by her push the poison of misery out of his system.

And when she stopped and drew away, and nuzzled her forehead with his, still half lying on his chest, with one hand under his neck and other stroking his cheek, when she looked into his eyes - nothing hurt anymore, not even his body.

"I was sorry he had to see us," she explained. "not that we kissed."

Of course. That made sense.

Julian nodded sheepishly. "I'm so sorry. I made a terrible mistake."

"Almost." She kissed him again. He dipped his fingers in her hair, kissing her back. Another piece of his heart fell painfully into place. "I was going to tell you," she murmured. "that Asra told us to be good to each other."

Julian's eyes went wide. "He's not angry?"

She shook her head. "He told us to be happy."

"So he is a saint," he murmured before pulling her down to claim another kiss from her. "I will be good to you, my love, I swear," he breathed ardently against her lips. "I'll never doubt again, I'll never leave again, I'll never make you cry again."

"I know." Another sweet, good kiss. Another shred patched to the whole.

"Please forgive me what I've done."

"I do." Another brush of her lips against his, so innocent and pure.

When she pulled away and sat back, they even smiled at each other.

Julian frowned. "Darling, don't tell me you sat on the floor the whole time."

It was already dark outside.

She snorted softly. "You're a little too heavy and I am still a little too weak to carry you to bed."

"You couldn't be comfortable."

"You'd know."

Julian found himself chuckling. He stopped abruptly. It was strange. He didn't remember the last time he laughed. Guess he'd have to get used to.

To distract himself, he made an attempt to sit up.

At once, [y/n]'s arms were around him. "Slowly, please, slowly."

With her help, he was up. He bit his lips not to groan. His spine and tendons were burning. He rubbed his nape, rolled his neck carefully.

"How is it?" she asked with worry.

"Much better than I thought it would."

She gave him an incredulous look.

"I mean it!" He flashed her a charming smile and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her near. He pressed a kiss to her hair. "You've got a healing touch, my dearest."

She shook her head, giggling. "There you are. I missed the sassy doctor."

"It's true," he persisted. He hugged her tighter, even though the effort made his muscles scream.

[y/n] noticed it somehow. "Alright. Come on." She moved to kneel behind him. "If you can flirt with me, you can stand up and go to bed."

Julian hesitated, taken aback. Was he flirting? A default shame and guilt pierced his chest. But then, her arms snaked around his torso, and she pecked his cheek.

"Is something wrong? Something hurts?"

He shook his head, letting himself smile once more.

He could flirt with her now.

"No, I'm fine."

"Ready?"

"Ready. Upsy-daisy!" he grunted, heaving himself up on his feet, with [y/n] steadying him from behind. "Holy fuck bloody hell!" he half growled, half laughed at his bones popping into place, holding onto the mantlepiece.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yes."

[y/n] helped him hobble to the bed. "Now slowly, care- "

Julian threw himself on the on the mattress and bounced with a loud whimper.

"-fully…"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" he assured her, sobbing through laughter.

She perched on the bed with a sigh. She helped him put a pillow under his head. When he was comfortable, he brought her hand to his lips and showered it with kisses.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked.

"You. Only you. Just you," he murmured between kisses. "Please stay. Don't go, please. Stay for the night."

The smile she gave him, illuminated faintly by the golden light from the fireplace, the affection in her eyes… Julian felt his chest swell with warmth.

He could get used to that.

And then, she was crawling on the bed. She lied down, her front pressed flush to his side, her head on his shoulder and hand around his shoulder. Julian wound his arms around her, hugged her tight, and she sighed blissfully. He stared at the dark ceiling, incredulous.

"Oh good lord…" he breathed, hugging his cheek to her sweet smelling hair. He smoothed his hands up and down her back and shoulder. He marveled at how soft and warm she was. "Are you really here?"

She embraced him tighter. "Yes."

"It's not a dream?"

She nuzzled his neck. "No."

They held each other, savouring the moment. The darkness hugged them, glow of the fire tickled their entwined forms.

"Are you sure you want to stay?" he asked suddenly.

[y/n] moved away to see his face. "What do you mean?"

He gave her a forlorn look, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm a wreck, [y/n]. A suicide and a drunk. Are you really sure it's me you want?"

"Oh Julian…" She cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'm no saint either."

"You're an angel," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No, I'm not."

"You are. You saved my life."

"So we're even now."

He searched her eyes, looking for a hint if she was mocking him or saying goodbye.

She saw it. She rose on an elbow. "Could you let yourself believe" she asked, her voice gentle. "when I tell you that you're good and smart and sweet?" She traced his cheekbone with her fingers… "And that your sadness doesn't change that?" ...and his forehead and nose, making him close his eyes and relax. "And that I love you sad, and will love you happy?" She kissed his fluttering eyelids... "And angry, and tired, and silly, and calm, and excited…" ...and both corners of his mouth. "Could you believe that I just love you for you?"

How could he say no to her? "I'll do my best."

Her smile was enough of a prize.

He craned his neck to get another kiss but this time, his spine didn't take it. Julian fell on the pillow with a muffled grunt.

[y/n] frowned and moved on her stomach to freely feel his nape. "You poor, silly thing…"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, averting his eyes with shame. Though he couldn't deny that her touch did wonders.

"I could put a healing spell on you."

"No."

"Hush," she scolded him softly. "It's a good, simple spell. Tomorrow morning, you'd be as good as new. I'd just have to go to the shop, bring the spellbook, ingredientes..."

"No, please." He clung to her waist. "I'm fine."

"Julian…"

"Tomorrow, alright? Tomorrow you'll put on me every spell you want but tonight stay, please."

"Alright." She stopped resisting and hugged him back. "But let me at least wrap a scarf or two around your neck. Don't you think, doctor? You move too much."

"As long as you stay here with me."

"I will." She kissed his forehead. "I'll just get a scarf."

His arms tightened on her. "Then no."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she laughed. "It's to the wardrobe and back!"

"Okay," he agreed but didn't let her go. "But I'll go with you."

He didn't mean it, he just wanted to hear her laugh again.

"Let's make a deal then," she offered.

He relished the playful spark in her eye. If it was even possible, he had just fallen in love with her harder. "I'm all ears."

She leaned over him and kissed him. But this time, in this kiss, there was passion that gave Julian goosebumps and made his hands curl into fists on her back. She pressed hard on him, surprising him, making him gasp. She took his lips with determination and hunger, with clear purpose to have Julian melt underneath her. And he did. He obediently opened his mouth for her, kissed her back, tried to keep up, letting his own desire for her wake up in him, setting it loose - for real - for the first time in his life, feeling free and the closest to happy for the first time in a very long time.

She pulled away way too soon. "You'll get another when I'm back," she murmured.

 _Oh sweet lord…_ Julian only hummed in answer. He let her slip out from his hands and watched her go and rummaged through his wardrobe, even though his neck hurt when twisted like this.

It didn't matter. And, to his surprise, not because he himself didn't matter. Suddenly, he did because he mattered to her. She was a sun, warm and bright, gave him an outline, a shadow, made him real. And his pain was about to be gone, either with her magical kisses and touches, or spells, or whatever. It didn't matter in the light of such a dream come true.

**Author's Note:**

> You can yell at me on tumblr [santamalgastadora](https://santamalgastadora.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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